


Together with the Sundown

by KelseaGrumbles



Series: Oliver & Abigail Series [1]
Category: Distant Shores (Visual Novel)
Genre: 18th Century, Angst, Choices, Choices: Stories You Play - Freeform, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, NSFW, Pirates, Pixelberry, Smut, Time Travel, Violence, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25531072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseaGrumbles/pseuds/KelseaGrumbles
Summary: This story takes place on Lieutenant Oliver’s ship just after he saves the Poseidon's Revenge’s crew from the island and before they get to Port Monarque in Chapter 13. Since the book says that it takes a few days to get to the port, I wanted to expand on what might happen on the ship between Oliver, MC and the crew. I headcanon that it took them three full sea days to arrive at the port and this story will give insight on what might have happened, specifically between Oliver and MC.
Relationships: Oliver Cochrane/Main Character (Distant Shores)
Series: Oliver & Abigail Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912456
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Day Zero: Sleepless Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: Angst with the smallest amount of fluff (don’t worry, it gets better)

Darkness.

Abigail was engulfed in the darkness inside one of the past officer’s cabins aboard  _ The Intrepid,  _ Lieutenant Oliver Cochrane’s ship. She was wide awake, her mind busy, keeping her from the rest she so desperately wanted and quite frankly needed after the myriad of events that had taken place the past few days. 

It was late. Everyone else was already fast asleep in their own sleeping quarters. Every creak and groan the wooden vessel made just pulled Abigail further and further from her slumber. With a frustrated sigh, she finally gave up and swiftly kicked the covers off her body. Standing from the bed, Abigail threw on her white blouse and black trousers, forgoing her boots, and quietly walked out of her room.

The ship’s deck was eerily silent, save for the lapping of the waves against the hull and the wind billowing into the sails. As soon as Abigail made it to the railing she cursed herself for leaving her boots in the room. The chill from the wind and dampness on her toes sent a shiver through her spine. But she needed this. She needed a moment to get out of her head and maybe just a moment to not think about what was to come when they finally made it to Port Monarque.

As Abigail gazed out over the vast ocean - the water a stark black since the sun had set - she thought back to her morning on the island where her crew worked desperately to find a way off. Her lips twitched to a smile as she thought back to the raft - if you could even call it that - they were attempting to build.

And now here they were aboard Oliver’s ship, sailing to their destination. They were saved, in a sense. Saved by a man who, only a few weeks ago, would have liked nothing more than to see her crew put away and never seen again.

At least so she thought.

Oliver Cochrane - a Lieutenant in the British Navy and the son of one vile devil known as Admiral Francis Cochrane. Oliver had lied to her in the beginning and that was something she may never forgive nor forget. 

Another shiver went up her spine, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. The memory of her night on the Admiral’s ship played through her mind. The memory of Oliver, someone she thought she could trust, leaving her to the wolves.

But he had come back. Come back for  _ her.  _ And he made a promise to never hurt her again, but she needed more than words to believe him. She needed actions. She hoped that she didn’t let her crew down for letting her heart get in the way, like Edward had so easily implied when they were back on the island.

She was so lost in her thoughts that Abigail didn’t hear the sound of a door opening or the soft footsteps walking up behind her. It wasn’t until someone quietly called her name that her concentration was broken and she turned around. As soon as her eyes met his, she froze, breath hitching in her throat.

Oliver stood a couple feet behind her, still clad in his Navy uniform though his head was divested of his hat. His pale blonde hair was still tied back into its usual loose bun, a few wayward strands clinging to his forehead due to the humidity in the Caribbean air. He stood tall and stoic as ever, his gaze never wavering from Abigail’s face.

In that moment, Abigail wondered what it would be like. To let go of her fears and break down her walls. To trust him fully and accept that he was truly there to help not only her but the crew - the family - she had grown to love over the past few weeks. She wondered if this, them,  _ him _ , would be enough for her.

However, things with Oliver had been moving fast, too fast for her liking. They barely knew each other but she was so ready to give in. To let go. Let whatever this was happen. It was reckless and insane and  _ thrilling _ .

“Abigail?”

Oliver’s voice repeating her name brought her back to this reality, if that’s what you would call it. She blinked a few times, her eyes focusing back on him. She noticed that his usual serious face was now contorted with something else.

_ Concern. _

“Hi,” was all she was able to muster out of her throat. It was quiet and she silently cursed herself for how meek and timid she sounded.

Abigail shot him a small smile and watched as he visibly relaxed, his facial features turning soft once again and the tension in his muscles grew loose. He took a few steps forward and stood alongside her against the ship’s railing. The pair looked out over the dark water in silence for a few moments before Oliver cleared his throat, turning his gaze to her.

“Are you alright, Abigail?” he asked and she could see his body shift a fraction of an inch closer to her. She could feel the heat radiating from him and smell his all too familiar scent of leather and ocean spray. Neither his words or actions should have made her feel this dizzy or confused, but yet here she was in that exact state.

Then, Abigail remembered the betrayal. She remembered all the moments Oliver had threatened her crew and her. Oliver giving chase to the  _ Poseidon’s Revenge  _ after leaving Tiburon, causing them to weather the storm. Being ambushed aboard this very ship and being locked away below deck. And finally when Oliver simply left her alone on his father’s ship with barely a goodbye.

Suddenly her mind cleared and she felt her walls go back into place. This man was still a Lieutenant in the British Navy who chased pirates - her crew. He had to prove himself and Abigail wasn’t going to let her guard down so easy.

However she knew that if she spoke, her voice would betray her intentions so Abigail simply nodded in response to his question. From her periphery she could see his brows furrow ever so slightly and his lips twitch into a small frown. Yet she remained focused and unwavered, doing everything in her power to not crash and burn.

Then, Oliver gently placed his hand on top of hers and Abigail’s body went rigid and melted at the same time.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded and finally Abigail broke her gaze away from the boundless sea in front of them. Looking into his warm eyes, she could feel her resolve slowly slipping away. But she was an actress, she knew how to hold it together and put up a front. She was strong and almost fearless. She could handle one measly Navy Lieutenant.

_ Right? _

So she turned the key in the imaginary lock that was her emotions and plastered on a not-so-obviously fake smile. She would be civil and friendly - as long as he did the same - and speak with him as if nothing was amiss. 

“I’m fine, I just couldn’t sleep,” Abigail responded which only made Oliver’s brow crease further.

Abigail’s heart fluttered ever so slightly when she felt the gentle caress of Oliver’s thumb tracing circles on her skin where his hand still rested upon hers and her eyes dipped down to where their hands rested. His calloused thumb was surprisingly soft and tender and she could feel the slight burn against her neck and cheek though she desperately hoped it wasn’t visible. She wondered if he knew what he was doing to her or if his actions were purely innocent and done out of care. However, now was not the time to break down and give in so early so she forced herself to look back out over the ship’s railing.

She kept her hand in place.

She wondered if Oliver could sense it. The reservations and the self control she was most likely emitting. She was too stubborn and too proud, just like the pirate she was.

And it almost looked like he had never been so enamored.

“But you seemed so tired earlier. I swore you were going to pass right out standing up.” Oliver said with a wry smile.

Admittedly she had been tired, exhausted really. She remembered leaning against the mast of the ship while talking with Maggie and Ginny and her eyes kept slowly drooping closed. It wasn’t until she felt Maggie’s hands on her shoulder, presumably holding her in place as she nearly toppled over, that Abigail had realized how tired she actually was. And Oliver had noticed as well.

Her cheeks flushed a little more. “I was tired, but when I finally laid down I couldn’t fall asleep. Too much on my mind,” she admitted.

Oliver gave her another cursory glance then turned to face back out into the sea ahead, his hand slipping off hers and back onto the ship’s railing. Abigail was instantly freezing again.

“So you came out here… without your shoes?” he questioned, “Do you realize how dangerous that could be aboard a ship?” Abigail expected him to sound coarse or even condescending, but truthfully he sounded concerned.

A small smile tugged at her lips at the thought of him worrying about her. “I like to be barefoot, it’s freeing.”

Oliver’s once concerned face morphed into confusion. “You like to be a bear foot?”

For a moment, Abigail’s face faltered as she realized that term must not have been coined in this time yet. But she was quick witted and easily schooled her face back to its friendly demeanor.

“Not a bear like the animal, bare as in without cover. It’s a common phrase from my hometown when you don’t wear any shoes.” He simply nodded, her answer seeming to have satisfied his curiosity for now.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them as they continued to look out at the horizon, only the ocean and the stars in their view. Abigail couldn’t remember the last time she was able to relax and enjoy this view. Though in truth she shouldn’t have been feeling relaxed at all, given the fact they were headed into unknown danger with Robert and the Admiral.

After a few more minutes of silence, Oliver cleared his throat and began to speak again. “Could you tell me about it?” Abigail glanced at him, waiting for him to elaborate more on what ‘it’ was. “Your hometown, I mean. I know you said that I have never heard of it but…” he paused for a moment, breaking his gaze from the ocean to look at her. A glimmer of something deep in his eyes that Abigail couldn’t quite place. “...I was hoping we could be honest with each other now. All things considered.”

_ Ah, right, of course he assumed she had lied about everything, as well. _

However, now wasn’t the time nor the place to reveal any truths about her past - or future, technically. She wasn’t ready to open that can of worms, though deep down it pained her to lie to him again. So instead she put her acting skills to the test to try her best to skirt around his question with a half-truth.

“I never lied to you, Oliver. Not once.”

In some cases she was telling the truth. She had admitted that she was the navigator of the  _ Poseidon’s Revenge  _ which turned out to be true probably much to Oliver’s initial dismay.

“Aye, my apologies Abigail. I just- You’re such a peculiar woman. I would enjoy getting to know you better.”

“Peculiar?” she echoed, her lips tugging into a small smirk. “Is that supposed to be an insult, Lieutenant?”

Oliver’s eyes widened in almost horror as his mouth fell agape. “I- What- No! Abigail I would never-” His stuttering was halted as the sound of laughter filled the air around him.  _ Her  _ laughter. Sweet and melodic with a slight rasp that trailed at the end. “Why are you laughing?”

Abigail took a moment to collect herself but the smile never left her lips. Watching Oliver’s shocked expression - cheeks tinged pink, lips parted and pupils blown wide - she realized that look was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver,” she started, suppressing the small giggle that bubbled in her throat, “I was only joking.”

It took a few seconds but eventually Oliver’s lips quirk into a tight grin. “Ah, I see,” was the only thing he was able to respond with as he tried to remain stoic as ever. He failed miserably.

This was the side of Oliver she wanted. Similar to the one she met on that fateful day in Tiburon with his intense gaze but slightly happy-go-lucky demeanor. She wanted to remember the good even if it may have been a ruse. So for now, she pushed those memories away and schooled her features once again, and cleared her throat before she began to speak.

“So, Lieutenant,” she started, her voice turning sharp, “what good would it do for you to understand me better?” Abigail knew that her words must have stung a little as she watched Oliver wince before looking away from her.

Maybe he didn’t understand it either, she thought. Maybe he didn’t understand why he wanted to learn about this pirate woman that he barely knew. Perhaps he couldn’t believe he was here in this situation. Defying the Admiral’s orders and sailing with a pirate crew which went against the very nature of his being. But maybe he didn’t really care about all that, either.

So with a shaky breath, he finally spoke. “I am drawn to you,” he admitted after racking his brain for anything else to say but eventually falling on the truth. “There is something about you, Abigail, something I can’t explain. As though you are a siren calling me to treacherous waters. Tis an unexplainable feeling that I cannot shake.”

Thinking about the compass that constantly drew her to places unknown, Abigail realized that she may have understood his feelings more than he knew. But that was a different story for another time and right now between her cold, tired and fragile state, she couldn’t stand to hold back any further.

“I don’t understand you, Oliver. You’ve barely met me yet you’ve betrayed your commanding officer - your  _ father  _ \- for what? For me? A silly girl?” Her heart felt as if it was lodged in her throat as she rambled. “You don’t even know me. And maybe that’s for the best. Even if you did, I doubt you would feel the same way as you do now.”

Oliver frowned, “You don’t know that, Abigail,” he countered. “I may not have known you long but I have never felt this way towards anyone. Ever. Please tell me you feel it, too.”

...She did.

At least, she thought she did. In all her life - past, present, future - she had never felt so strongly for another. It scared her. She was scared of the future. Scared of the way he fell so desperately for her and her to him, as well. Scared of his reckless abandon. Scared to get hurt again.

So when she couldn’t take it anymore, she broke. Deciding now wasn’t the time to hold back any further.

“You hurt me, Oliver,” when she spoke Oliver visibly winced again.

“Abigail, please-” He started to protest but Abigail quickly held up her hand to silence him, turning her head away.

She continued, “You dismissed my feelings and you left me alone on the Admiral’s ship. That can’t be easily forgiven and certainly not forgotten.” Though tears threatened the rims of her eyes, she blinked them back, struggling to hold on to the last bit of her resolve.

He reached out to touch her hand but she pulled away, stepping back from the railing and Oliver slowly lowered his hand back to his side. “Please,” she begged, her heart teetering dangerously inside her ribcage, “I just need time.”

Though time was really the last thing that they had.

Oliver was silent but he nodded his head. “I understand.”

Abigail didn’t make another move to leave, instead standing still on the deck with her arms wrapped around herself in a failed attempt at warmth.

“You should go back to your room, you’re freezing,” Oliver said, his voice kind but barely above a whisper. Though Abigail knew that all that awaited her was darkness and a restless night, she agreed that anywhere was better than the moment they were in right now.

Without a word, Abigail turned to retreat to her cabin below deck. With every step she took she felt a weight added to her shoulders and a sudden never ending pit fill her stomach. This wasn’t how she wanted to leave things, no matter how hurt she was. She made it a few feet before stopping and turning her head back to Oliver. She didn’t hear the silent gasp he exhaled when he watched her stop.

“I would like to trust you, Oliver,” she stated, her face indecipherable. “I can’t right now, but maybe one day.”

Oliver could feel his chest ache with desperation but also fill with a semblance of hope. “I would like nothing more, Abigail. I will do whatever it takes to prove to you my worth.” His lips twitched with a small grin and Abigail couldn’t help the flutter she felt in her chest at the sight.

“How about we start tomorrow?” she asked and Oliver nodded his head almost too eagerly. 

“Can I take you on a tour of the ship? You and your whole crew?” he asked.

She smiled. “I would like that.”

After a few more words and a final goodbye, Abigail made her way to her cabin, leaving Oliver alone on the deck. It didn’t take long for her newfound exhaustion to overtake her, the calming darkness and the gentle sounds of  _ The Intrepid  _ lulling her to sleep.

~~~~~


	2. Day One: Hurt & Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: Angst, fluff, mention of death and illness (minor)

Oliver walked into the ship’s mess hall after spending the majority of his morning in his cabin where he was hunched over his desk reviewing various maps and documents. Though fatigued, Oliver had always been an early riser. So even after a restless night - where his thoughts seemed to wander to a particular pirate woman on the other side of the ship - he awoke at the crack of dawn to start his day.

The large mess hall was filled with raucous laughter and chatter as the  _ Poseidon's Revenge  _ crew milled about, enjoying their rations of hard tack biscuits and salted pork. Though Oliver was used to seeing many more people in the space, he didn’t think his men had ever been so loud.

Oliver’s eyes wandered around the space, finally landing on his own two crew members seated alongside one of the twins - the girl whose name he couldn’t quite remember at the moment - from the pirate crew. He made his way across the room to his men until he was standing just beside them. He realized quickly that neither his First Mate nor Master at Arms had noticed their Lieutenant standing there. Both men seemed to be enraptured by the girl at their table.

“...taught myself to do this when I was a wee lass,” Oliver barely caught the end of her sentence before the girl quickly leaned backwards on the bench she was sitting on, twisting her body around and under the seat to grab her ankles on the other side. Both Officer Doyle and Alvarez stood to look over the table, their jaws slightly unhinged at the sight.

Oliver knitted his brows then loudly cleared his throat. His men jumped at attention, whirling around to face their commanding officer. They quickly forget about the twin who was now untangling herself from, well, herself. 

“Sir,” both men chorused, their bodies now ramrod straight as Oliver stared them down.

The glare in Oliver’s eyes soon transformed into mischief as his lips twitched into a slight smirk. “At ease, gentlemen.”

Doyle and Alvarez glanced at each other nervously before slowly relaxing their bodies, though they stayed standing. Oliver ran a tight ship and he knew that his men were leery of showing any signs of insubordination. But times were different now and Oliver knew that it was about time for change.

“Sit, please,” Oliver said and the two officer followed his command, taking their seats across from the flexible pirate. Adelia stood from her seat, nodding her head at Oliver who smiled in response. Just before she stepped away she shot a wink over to Doyle and Alvarez, both of which now wore goofy smiles and redder cheeks than before. Oliver rolled his eyes but sat down in the now empty space across from his officers.

“Do I need to keep my eye on her or the both of you?” Oliver jested, watching how his men’s eyes grew wide. He wasn’t sure which caused his men to act so shocked and flustered: whether it was the content of his joke or the fact that their Lieutenant was actually making one in the first place.

Before either men could speak, they were interrupted by Henry dropping off a plate of salted meat and leavened bread in front of Oliver. “Mornin’, figured ye could use this,” Henry said before turning around and heading back into the galley across the room.

Though the relationship between Oliver and Henry was not without hardship, the pair grew to tolerate one another. Oliver commended Henry’s skill in the kitchen and Henry appreciated Oliver’s willingness to turn on the Admiral and save the pirate crew. They weren’t friends - far from it - but they respected each other and on the open sea, sometimes that was worth more than friendship.

Oliver focused his attention on the food in front of him and began to speak with his officers, “So, how did the tour go this morning? I trust everyone survived?” Another joke from their Lieutenant, the world really must be ending.

“Yes, sir,” the First Mate, Office Alvarez, replied. “All went well.”

Oliver nodded his head approvingly as he took a bite of the dried pork in his hand.

“Although I was wondering,” Officer Doyle started, looking at his Lieutenant for a sign to stop or continue. Oliver arched his brow but silently nodded, encouraging him to continue. “What brought on the sudden request for the tour, sir?”

Oliver continued to chew his food as he thought of an answer for his men. He thought back to last night. To Abigail and their conversation and for a brief moment he smiled to himself. But then his smile faltered, remembering the pain in her eyes. He shook his head, focusing back on his officers.

After he swallowed his food, he responded to his Master at Arms, “I thought it best we show our hospitality while they’re on board. We are, after all, helping them in their endeavors. A tour of  _ The Intrepid  _ seemed like a fine place to start.”

Doyle and Alvarez gave each other another sideways glance but didn’t press further on the matter.

“We were short one pirate, however,” Doyle commented after a moment of silence.

Oliver arched his brow again, swallowing his bite of bread. “Oh, everything alright?”

Doyle nodded, “Aye, all fine. At least that’s what Miss Smith over there claimed.” Doyle tilted his head to the  _ Posieden’s Revenge’s  _ Quartermaster where she sat at a table with Captain Edward.

Oliver’s eyes scanned the rest of the room, finally taking in the faces that surrounded him. After a moment his brows furrowed into something close to uneasiness. Turning his attention back to his men, he knew they could sense their Lieutenant’s shift in demeanor. 

Every possible bad thought ran through his mind. “Who was missing?” Oliver asked, holding his breath as he waited for them to answer.

Doyle looked down at the table, unable to meet his leader’s stare. Realizing that his peer wasn’t going to answer, Alvarez cleared his throat to respond, “Miss Bellamy, sir.”

It was as though Oliver had plunged into the deepest part of the ocean. His skin burned as if freezing water had engulfed him and his lungs were emptied of all air. Again, every possible, terrible scenario crowded his mind and it took everything in him not to jump up and rush to her cabin.

He needed to think with reason. Surely there was a logical explanation for Abigail not to be in attendance this morning. Maybe she fell ill? She had been ‘barefoot’ as she mentioned and it was terribly cold outside. Maybe she caught something from the island where she had been stranded. Maybe she had been hurt and hid her injuries from him and the crew. Maybe she…

His thoughts were cut off, thankfully, as Alvarez cleared his throat to get Oliver’s attention. “Sir, maybe you could talk with Miss Smith and the captain. They seemed to think she was fine.”

In that moment, Oliver had never been more thankful for his loyal men who had stayed with him. He nodded his head and stood from the table. Doyle and Alvarez went to stand, as well, but Oliver waived them off, encouraging them to sit and stay. As he made his way across the mess hall to Charlie and Edward’s table, he couldn’t help but notice the young twin girl from earlier somersaulting her way back to the officers.

As he got closer to the table, Oliver tried to force himself to regulate his breathing, not wanting to come off as overly desperate or concerned as he was. His eyes caught Charlie’s who merely smiled at him. Edward shifted in his seat and turned to look behind him, locking eyes with the Navy man. Edward’s eyes narrowed then he quickly turned his back to the Lieutenant.

_ This did not bode well. _

Oliver now stood next to the table where Charlie and Edward sat silently. Charlie continued to smile while Edward looked down at the empty space in front of him. “Good morning,” Oliver greeted, “I trust my men provided your crew with an adequate tour?” The pirate captain merely nodded his head and grunted a response.

Across the table from Edward, Charlie rolled her eyes and smiled up at Oliver who was still standing next to their table. “Don’t worry, love, I would say our captain here ‘tisn’t a morning person, but honestly he is like this all the time.” Edward didn’t bother to respond. “The tour was grand, our thanks,” Charlie responded before taking a drink of whatever liquid laid in her tankard.

Oliver could see where Abigail got her humor and kind nature, and clearly it wasn’t from Edward.

“Glad to hear,” Oliver responded and soon the air around them grew awkwardly quiet.

“So,” Charlie started after several tense seconds of silence, “what can we do fer ye today, Lieutenant?” 

Oliver inhaled sharply, gathering his nerves to speak. “I wanted to see if Abi- er, Miss Bellamy was alright? My men advised me that she wasn’t in attendance this morning.” Oliver prayed hopelessly that the shakiness he felt in his throat didn’t come out as obvious to them.

Edward lifted his head at this, eyeing the Navy man cautiously. “Aye, she’s fine,” Edward stated, not bothering to provide any further information.

Charlie rolled her eyes again - a common occurrence it seems - at her Captain then looked back up to Oliver, a gleam of something akin to mischief in her eyes that Oliver doesn't miss. “Aye, she’s fine, alright. She’s a heavy sleeper that one.” Oliver didn’t miss the pointed look that Edward shot his Quartermaster, but it seemed that she chose to ignore it. “We learned the hard way not to wake her until she is good and ready.” Charlie’s smile was contagious, making both Oliver and Edwards' lips quirk into their own smiles.

“I see, so she is still in bed?” Oliver asked and Charlie nodded in response.

Clear that Edward wasn’t going to speak anymore, Oliver bid them goodbye and turned on his heels to go back to the table with his men. Before he could make it all the way to the table, he felt a small tap on his shoulder. Charlie was there, a plate with food and a tankard of what he suspected was not water in her hands.

“Here,” Charlie said, thrusting the items into Oliver’s hands.

Oliver took the plate and tankard but opened his mouth to protest. Before he could speak, Charlie raised her hand to silence him. “For Abigail. Why don’t ye take it to her room and wake her? She shouldn’t be wasting her day away in bed, anyways.”

Oliver looked down at the items in his hands then back up to Charlie, giving her a grateful smile. “Thank you, Miss Smith. I truly appreciate it.”

Charlie waved him off, laughing heartily. “Aye, ‘tis nothing. I know there are worse ways to start your day. And please, it’s just Charlie. None of the ‘Miss Smith’ nonsense.” She smiled and bid him farewell, turning to go back to her table with Edward.

Oliver made a beeline for the doors, a small pep in his step as he exited the mess hall to head toward Abigail’s room.

~~~~~

Abigail loved taking baths. She loved soaking in scalding water until her skin turned to wrinkles. She loved using bath bombs and epsom salts that smelled of eucalyptus and lavender. She enjoyed reading her favorite books or looking over new scripts while she soaked. And her absolute favorite part of relaxing in a bath was the peace and quiet.

So when the sound of knocking on the door rang through the room, she was understandably annoyed. That was until she opened her eyes and realized she wasn’t enjoying a nice, relaxing bath and was instead sleeping on  _ The Intrepid _ . The knocking was coming from her cabin door and she muttered several curses under her breath.

Abigail hurriedly flung the covers to the ground and grabbed her clothes. As soon as her blouse was over her torso, Abigail threw open the cabin door, ready to lay into the person who disturbed her. That was until her eyes landed on Oliver standing in the doorway.

“Good morning,” he greeted, “I brought breakfast.”

Oliver motioned to his full hands where a plate of some kind of meat and round disc sat and a wooden tankard that Abigail assumed was not a piping hot cup of coffee or cold, refreshing orange juice.

Abigail smiled politely and thanked him before moving from the doorway, allowing Oliver to step inside. Taking the food and drink from his hands, Abigail sat back down on the bed. She placed the cup of ‘clearly not coffee’ on the floor beside her feet and took a tentative bite of the hard biscuit on her plate.

“Thank you for this,” she said after swallowing down her first bite. Oliver’s lips curled to a tight smile and he nodded his head once, but did not speak any further.

He stood tall and motionless in the center of the room and for a moment Abigail briefly felt like she was in the ship’s cell again. It was as though Oliver held her prisoner, only bringing food and drink then standing over to watch her. The thought made her stomach churn and she sat the plate down on the bed beside her.

“So,” she started, trying to push the thought out of her mind as best as she could, “breakfast in bed, huh?”

Oliver gave her a quizzical look, obvious that he didn’t fully understand her reference or the joke she was trying to make.

“Aye, I thought you might like to eat before we begin our tour.”

_ Ah, right, the tour of the ship he promised. _

Abigail nodded her head, turning back to the plate by her side and forcing down another bite of the dried pork or beef or whatever it was. She would never get used to the food in this time period.

“Did you deliver breakfast to everyone else, as well?” she quipped and this time she watched Oliver’s lips quirk into a small smile.

“I did not, your crew has already participated in their tour and are finishing up their meal in the mess hall as we speak.”

Abigail’s eyes widened slightly, “oh?”

“Aye, seems you are not an early riser like the rest of ‘em.”

Abigail couldn’t help the small laugh that left her lips at what she believed was Oliver’s attempt at a joke. Even though the words he spoke were the truth.

“Does that mean I get a  _ private  _ tour?” she asked, realizing too late the suggestiveness in her voice. Oliver must have noticed too. A slight blush started to form on his cheeks and he quickly tilted his head away from her gaze.

He cleared his throat before speaking, his voice a husky timbre in comparison from before, “If that is what you desire, Abigail.”

The room was quiet, save for the creaking wood and crashing of wave against the hull. Abigail stared at Oliver who refused to meet her gaze. She took in every detail of the Navy man in front of her. The glittering shine of gold buttons that reflected the sun coming in from the small porthole. The defined lines of his collarbones that just barely peeked out the top of his jacket. The few stray hairs from his pale, blonde locks that had fallen from his loose bun. She wondered why the men back home, in her time, never looked like this.

“Abigail?”

Shaking her head from the dangerous thoughts clouding her mind, Abigail focused her eyes back on Oliver’s face. “I’m sorry,” she admitted, “ready to go?”

“Do you want to finish your breakfast?”

Abigail looked down at the almost untouched plate. She grabbed the hardtack biscuit, shoving it in her mouth, and stood up from the bed. With her free hands she quickly worked her hair into a braid then made her way over to her boots. She wasn’t going to forget those this time. After a flurry of movement she was ready to go.

Finishing up the final bite of her biscuit, she made her way to stand by Oliver who still hadn’t moved from the spot in the room. “Lead the way,” she said expectantly, motioning to the door.

Oliver shot her a small smile then held up his arm in offering to hers. “Right this way, Miss Bellamy.”

Abigail looked at his face, then his arm, and rolled her eyes. She snaked her arm through his and together they made their way out of the cabin to explore the rest of  _ The Intrepid. _

~~~~~

“I thought we would start at the bottom.”

Abigail barely registered Oliver’s words as the pair made their way down the familiar wooden steps towards the bottom of the ship. She felt cold and unnerved as they walked past barrels of gunpowder, cannonballs and wooden planks.

“This is the cargo hold,” Oliver announced, not noticing the grim expression on Abigail’s face. “And further back,” he continued, “is the brig.”

“I know,” Abigail responded distantly.

The memories were fresh in her mind. Oliver’s men ushering Edward, Henry and her down to this very deck, their hands bound behind their back like prisoners. Because they  _ were  _ prisoners. The scent of copper still lingered in the air and she wondered if that was a smell she would ever be able to forget.

It was suffocating. She could feel her breath turning shallow and her throat constricted as she tried to inhale. She had never been the type to have a panic attack, but this seemed like the right time for one to happen.

Oliver seemed to have finally registered the strained and haunted expression on Abigail’s face. He followed her gaze to where it stared at the metal bars of the cells. “Oh, Abigail, I’m so sorry. I should not have brought you here. This was-”

His sentence was cut off as Abigail whirled around to face him, a look of anguish and helplessness in her eyes. “No, you should not have brought me here. Not now and certainly not then.”

She finally started to feel some control on her breathing again. The grimace on Oliver’s face made Abigail soften just a fraction but she stayed true, refusing to back down even when he couldn’t look her in the eye any longer.

“I know,” he sighed, the defeat clear in his shaky voice.

It felt like the walls were closing in on them. “Can we go?” she asked, though she didn’t bother giving him time to answer as she turned on her heels and raced back to the stairs. Oliver quickly trailed behind, taking the steps two at a time to catch up.

Abigail was leaning against the wall of the mid deck, her back to him. She tried to muffle the sobs but silently cursed herself when an audible sniffle escaped. She could feel him standing behind her. Could feel the regret and sadness that radiated off him and filled the small space between them. Then she felt a strong, but gentle hand on her shoulder. His touch was hesitant and guarded and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to shrug it off or lean into it, so instead she stood still and continued to cry.

And he let her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said hoarsely, “I promise you, Abigail, I will do everything in my power to right the wrongs I have done to you and your crew.” He gently tugged at her shoulder to turn her until she was facing him. He moved his thumb across her cheeks, wiping away stray tears in his path. Then his hand went to her chin, tilting her head so her eyes met his. “And I have never broken a promise.”

Abigail sighed and finally allowed herself to lean into his touch. She wanted - with everything in her being - to believe him. The constant war raging between her mind and heart was tearing her apart and she thought maybe it would just be easier to walk away. Walk away from him and from everything else. But he was just so damn alluring.

“Oliver…” Abigail realized how close they were. She could feel his breath against her face. Could smell the leather and ocean salt on his skin. Could almost taste the richness of his lips. “Can we finish the tour?”

His eyes had been hooded, almost drowsy, but they shot open in surprise. “Are you sure? I understand if you would prefer to stop.”

Abigail shook her head, then pulled away from him until his hands fell back to his side. “No, no, please. I would like to continue.”

Oliver gave her an appraising look and Abigail shuddered under his gaze. She wondered what he was searching for as his eyes raked over her. “Alright, darling, if you insist.”

The next stop was the gundeck where rows of cannons rested, jutting out of the sides of the ship. This was familiar, as well. Though in a different circumstance. Abigail’s training as a gunner on the  _ Poseidon’s Revenge  _ made her very comfortable in this area. As she walked along the center of the room, hand grazing over the powerful weapons, the tension in her body slowly relaxed.

“What do you think?” Oliver asked. He stood several feet behind her, his eyes watching her walk along her path.

“Impressive,” she replied without bothering to turn back towards him. “Though it seems you may be trying to compensate for something.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh and crossed his arms over his chest. The rapier sword jingled at his side with his movement. “This is actually quite modest,” he jested, “there are larger vessels in the fleet.”

Abigail rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep a smile from forming on her lips. She turned back around and was relieved to see him grinning, too. She couldn’t understand how she could go from upset and angry with him in one moment to almost completely smitten in the other. It was frustrating and overwhelming but she didn’t want to fight it.

As she looked around the room, a small sense of dread and sadness washed over her. Memories of her time on the  _ Poseidon’s Revenge  _ filled her mind, warping her face to something solemn and somber.

“The  _ Poseidon’s Revenge  _ was the first ship I had ever been on,” she started, red eyes gleaming ever so slightly. “It was the first time I shot a cannon, tied a knot, sailed a ship.” She closed her eyes, parting her mouth to inhale deeply before sighing and speaking again. “It was like I had found my place. My  _ home _ . And now it’s gone.”

Not having a moment to really register that their pirate ship was actually gone had finally caught up to her. Though she had only been in this place for a short period, it had felt like a lifetime.

“I’m so sorry, Abigail,” Oliver apologized but Abigail just shook her head and frowned.

“I don’t want you to apologize anymore,” she demanded, though there was no malice or hardness in her words. “You didn’t blow up our ship. You were just following your orders.”

“I’m-,” he stopped himself short, wincing as he looked down at his feet. “I understand.”

Abigail collected herself, wiping her face with the sleeve of her blouse before making her way back over to the Lieutenant. “Enough of this, on to the next stop,” she quipped.

The way Oliver looked at her, his brown eyes staring through her, she knew exactly what he was thinking. She could tell that he knew she was just trying to suppress all her pain and grief. Without words she knew that seeing her like this was likely hurting him just as much. And right now there wasn’t time to worry about it.

The look she returned to him was a plea, almost begging for him to move on and not ask questions. And she was thankful when he simply nodded his head and extended his arm out so they could walk out of the gundeck together.

As they walked up the steps to the top deck of the ship, Oliver cleared his throat, his eyes never straying from the steps below him. “I hope that you’re able to find it again.” Abigail shot him a curious look before he elaborated. “A home, I mean.”

The surprisingly uncharacteristic tenderness of his voice made Abigail’s knees weak and the flutter in her chest ran almost rampant. Even though Abigail already knew what the future held, she wondered if it was all truly set in stone as she always had thought.

~~~~~

“I didn’t mean for this tour to be so… taxing.” Oliver and Abigail walked along the deck of  _ The Intrepid,  _ weaving around the bustling crew. The white sails above billowed in the harsh wind which made it almost entirely too hard to carry on a leisurely conversation.

“What did you say?” Abigail basically yelled, trying her hardest to speak over all the noise on the top deck.

Oliver gave her a defeated look before shaking his head, having not been able to hear her either. Instead he reached his hand down and gently grabbed her wrist, pulling her along to the door that led off from the topdeck and under the quarterdeck. Once on the other side of the door, the raucous sounds from outside seemed to disappear entirely.

Abigail and Oliver now stood in a small room, furnished with a plush carpet, a desk with a red chair on one side and shelf on the other. There was a bed carved into the side of the room, the linen pressed neatly against the mattress, an obvious sign of how Oliver had been raised. There was another door at the back of the room, nestled between two windows that looked out over the back of the ship and into the sea. The familiar scent of leather filled her senses and Abigail couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“These are your quarters,” Abigail stated and Oliver nodded.

“Figured this could be the last stop of the tour. And an escape from all the noise topside,” Oliver replied, removing his hat to set it down on his desk.

She smiled, “good idea.”

Abigail walked around the room, taking in the various parchments and documents lining the desk and shelves in the small space. There was a display case on the center of the shelf where an intricately detailed pistol sat. Ever so gently, she ran her fingers over the weapon until she felt the heat of him against her back. He was close, not quite touching, and Abigail resisted the urge to lean back into him.

“‘Twas a gift,” he answered, her silence being question enough. “For when I was promoted to Lieutenant.”

Abigail smiled at the thought, then her lips turned down slightly. “Was it from your father?” she asked and could immediately feel his body grow rigid behind her. She turned to face him, her breath catching in her throat with how dangerously close they were. His face was pained with a scowl and Abigail knew that subject was just as hard on him as it was on her and her crew.

Oliver nodded his head in response, “aye, it was.” The room grew silent but neither of them moved from their close proximity. 

“I do not wish to make excuses for him, but he was not always like this,” Oliver’s words broke the silence and Abigail almost sighed with relief, until he continued. “Things were harder after my mother passed.”

Abigail’s heart stuttered in her chest and the face Oliver made - so broken and vulnerable - left her feeling guilty. She reached out, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him into a tight embrace. “Oh, Oliver, I’m so sorry.”

She could feel him stiffen from the contact, but after a moment his strong arms returned the favor, wrapping around her just as tightly, squeezing gently until Abigail’s face pressed firmly against his chest.

“Please,” he croaked, his voice bearing a slight tremble as he spoke, “there is no need for apologies. It was a long time ago.”

That didn’t help ease the ache in her heart that she felt for him. Abigail understood the pain he felt. She had lived it just like him, but now wasn’t the time to bring that up. Words escaped her in that moment so all she could do was hug him tighter, her thumbs rubbing gentle circles into his back. She couldn’t stop the tears from spilling in her eyes and Oliver must have noticed as the dampness reached the skin of his chest.

“Why do you cry?” he asked, but she couldn’t answer. She shook her head and buried it further into him. He didn’t press further so instead they continued to comfort one another until Abigail could find her voice again.

“Could you tell me about her?” Abigail hoped that she hadn’t stepped over a line. After all, they barely knew each other and what right did she have to ask him such personal information?

But to her surprise, he didn’t hesitate. Instead he spoke freely.

“She was kind but strong. Definitely a fighter in her own right. She had to put up with my father and me after all,” she felt the rumble of laughter in his chest at his own words and Abigail couldn’t help but laugh, as well. “She was the best cook and even taught me a few things in the kitchen before father could put a stop to that.”

Abigail rolled her eyes at the thought but didn’t say anything.

He continued, “I have her eyes... And her smile. I also like to think that the best qualities of mine I inherited from her.” He was silent and Abigail could feel his arms wrapping tighter around her body. She did the same, preparing for whatever he was about to say next.

“I was around fourteen years when she passed. I knew she was sick but father wouldn’t tell me anything for years. I later found out it was tuberculosis.”

Abigail’s heart shattered beneath her ribcage. She closed her eyes, an attempt to stop the tears from flowing freely. Even when she felt his hands roam up to her shoulders to gently pull her away, she kept her eyes closed. And when she felt his forehead press delicately against hers they stayed closed. And even while he whispered that everything was okay, she didn't open her eyes.

It wasn’t until there was a loud knock on the door that her eyes finally flew open. Now she could see how close they really were. His face - cheeks tinged pink, lips parted and pupils blown wide - was mere inches from hers and she couldn’t remember a more beautiful sight. It was all too much.

But then another knock reverberated through the room and Oliver let out an exasperated sigh before pulling away. Their hands landed back down to their sides and Oliver made his way to the cabin door.

“What is it?” Oliver barked at his First Mate who stood on the other side of the door.

Officer Alvarez’s eyes grew wide at the harshness of his Lieutenants words, considering how easygoing he had been at breakfast. Then his eyes wandered over to Abigail who was still standing near the shelves in the room, wiping her face which was sure to be beet red both from tears and embarrassment.

“My apologies for interrupting, sir,” the officer said, his attention going back to his commanding officer. “but it’s midday. We usually meet and-”

“Right,” Oliver said, cutting his officer off in mid sentence, “thank you, Alvarez. If you could allow me one moment with Miss Bellamy, please.”

Alvarez nodded his head and stepped back from the doorway. Oliver turned to face Abigail who was already walking towards the exit.

“Sorry about that,” he commented before Abigail raised her hand to stop him.

“I already told you, Oliver. No more apologies,” she smiled and was elated to see his lips curl into a matching grin. “I should go.”

Oliver nodded before reaching out to grab her hand. He brought it to his lips where he brushed a gentle kiss across her knuckles. “Will I see you later?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Abigail tried to give a nonchalant shrug but the small smirk on her lips betrayed her true intentions, “it is a small ship.”

With that, Abigail turned and walked out of the cabin, shooting Officer Alvarez a wicked look before continuing out on the deck to meet up with Kendrick and Charlie.

“Permission to speak freely, sir,” Office Alvarez asked as he made his way into the Lieutenant's quarters. Oliver nodded in response. “She’s trouble, that one,” Officer Alvarez continued and Oliver couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face before he responded to his First Mate.

“Oh, I know.”

~~~~~

The sun was low on the horizon as Abigail made her way to the rail of the ship where a familiar figure was already standing. After a day of working hard to keep the ship moving - the sudden lack of wind for a few hours didn’t help - and a surprisingly filling dinner, Abigail was ready for a peaceful night.

“Evenin’, Lieutenant,” she greeted as she sidled next to Oliver at the ship’s railing. She leaned her back against the wood and tilted her head to look at him. He kept his gaze towards the horizon but Abigail watched as his lips twitched to a smile. “We really should stop meeting like this,” she jested.

She wasn’t sure if he didn’t quite get the joke or if he chose to ignore it as he greeted her instead. “Good evening to you, Miss Bellamy. I hope dinner was well,” Oliver’s voice was as calm as the ocean below them.

“It was, though you were missed,” she responded, not bothering to hide the teasing in her voice. “Even Edward was asking for your whereabouts.” At that she swore she saw him roll his eyes and this time she knew he ignored her.

“Well, ‘tis my job to keep this ship on a steady course. I relieved my men for a time so they could enjoy a meal and some company.”

Abigail turned to him and raised her brow. “Company?”

Oliver shot her a mischievous grin. “Aye, seems someone in particular from your crew has caught their attention.”

“ _ Both  _ of them?” she asked incredulously. She was unable to keep the bubble of laughter from escaping her throat. “I have a good guess on who that might be.”

The pair spent the next half hour catching up on the rest of their day. Oliver worked with his men on setting the course based on Abigail’s unconventional directions then worked on inventory. Abigail helped her crew around the ship then spent some time relaxing in her cabin until dinner time.

“I’m glad to hear you and your crew are adjusting well.” The pair were now facing each other, their elbows propped up on the railing.

“Me too,” Abigail agreed, “it was a good day despite some minor, uh, well, you know.”

She couldn’t even finish her sentence before the all too familiar feeling of dread crept into her mind. It pained her to know that every conversation they hand, they somehow just brought up the bad blood between them. She was tired of it. Tired of feeling hurt and sadness and regret. She just wanted to move on. So she grit her teeth and quickly changed the subject, saying the first thing that popped into her mind in hopes that it would help maybe fix things between them.

“I lost my sister when I was very young,” she blurted out.

_ This was not a promising start. _

Oliver frowned, his eyes locking onto hers. She could tell what he wanted to do. Could see the apology just begging to be released from his tongue. But instead he reached out and grabbed her hand, his thumb swiping gentle strokes against her skin. “Tell me about her,” he asked, parroting her words to him from earlier in the day.

Abigail nodded her head then slowly started to speak, keeping her mind focused on not giving away too much information about the future. Hoping that whatever she said would be just vague enough without passing suspicion.

“She was three years younger than me. I remember the day she was born. I was so mad at my parents because I wanted a little brother but instead they gave me a sister. I thought I should have been the only girl.” A ghost of a smile was on her lips as Oliver exhaled a near silent laugh. 

“But we became inseparable once she was old enough to talk. Until one day my parents told me that she was sick.”

~~~~~

**The day Abigail had found out her little sister was diagnosed with leukemia had been a cold one, with Halloween fast approaching. The leaves were brown and red and scattered all across the hospital’s playground where she spent most of her time while her parents spoke with nurses and doctors.**

**Her parents had been honest with her. She was, after all, already nine years old. Practically an adult, she thought. They told her that Sophie, her little sister, would be spending a lot of time in the hospital and would be unable to come home. Abigail thought of it as a vacation at first, but quickly changed her mind after the first few weeks.**

**Abigail could remember the sad looks her parents shared between each other everyday as they sat in the hospital room. She remembered her sister’s frail body laying in the hospital bed. She remembered laying in that same bed, watching the television and pointing out all the things they wanted to add to their Christmas list.**

**But Sophie didn’t make it to Christmas that year.**

~~~~~

Mentally shaking her head, Abigail continued to talk, the words falling out of her mouth with unstoppable force. “She was six years old. It was an incurable disease,” she paused for a second, choosing her words carefully. “I never learned what it was called, but it was swift and devastating and all I could do was watch as she left this world. But she was strong. Fearless. For someone so young she accepted and faced death better than anyone else I’ve ever known.” 

Oliver now stood directly in front of Abigail, his free hand wiping away the tears flowing down her cheeks. His other hand squeezing hers in an attempt to soothe the pain.

“You know,” he said once Abigail grew quiet, her choking sobs keeping her from speaking further, “that sounds like someone else I know.”

Through the tears and the ache in her chest, Abigail was able to smile. She thought back to their conversation earlier in the day while in Oliver’s cabin. How he had told her an equally heartbreaking story which only reminded her of her own experiences.

“We’re not so different, it seems,” she said once the lump in her throat had disappeared.

Oliver smiled, “I never had a doubt.”

He gave her hand one final squeeze before releasing it. Then he took another step forward, opening his arms in a silent invitation in which she happily accepted. This embrace was different than the one shared in his cabin earlier. That one had been one of grief and comfort. This hug was of understanding. It helped open up a new chapter between the two of them. It helped them both move on.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Oliver whispered against her temple before leaving a tentative kiss in the same spot. It was soft and warm and it melted away every underlying fear she may have had about the man in her arms.

“Thank you for listening,” she replied.

“Always, darling, always.”


	3. Day Two: The Descent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: Mentions of violence, blood, alcohol, swearing and yearning

The clashing of metal reverberated over the deck as Abigail made her way topside. She took one step forward and was immediately pulled back flush against the wooden wall.

“Watch it, love,” Charlie said from her spot next to Edward.

Instantly the fighting forms of Kendrick and Maggie danced by - swords weaving to and fro - in the same spot where Abigail stood just seconds before. Her eyes grew wide at the two friends dueling against each other. Kendrick’s face was twisted into a scowl as he was pushed back along the deck. In stunning contrast, Maggie wore an infectious grin as she parried and blocked each strike from her friend’s blade. It was clear who had the upper hand.

“Oi, Maggie!” Kendrick heaved through haggard breath. He quickly brought his sword up to block another one of Maggie’s blows. “Careful!” he yelled out, which only made the grin on Maggie’s face grow larger.

“I don’t think I’m the one who need be careful,” she quipped back, deftly blocking the swipe to her side.

Within minutes Maggie was able to back Kendrick completely against the rail of the ship, sandwiched between several barrels and a cannon. Her sword pointed at his throat which bobbed several times. “I yield!” Kendrick yelped, tossing his sword to the floor.

Maggie smiled, pulling her sword away from his neck then wiping the sweat from her brow. “Looks like leavin’ with Robert’s crew has made you soft, lad.” Maggie reached down and picked Kendrick’s sword up from the wooden deck and held it out for him.

Kendrick grumbled, refusing to meet his friend’s eye as he snatched his blade back. Maggie simply rolled her eyes then clapped her hand on his shoulder.

“You know I only joke, yer a mighty fine swordsman and you know it.”

Kendrick glowered at his friend, which quickly morphed to a wry smile. “Aye, and don’t you forget it, lass.”

Maggie playfully shoved Kendrick away as the pair laughed. They spoke a moment more, then made their way over to Abigail, Charlie and Edward who were still standing against the ship’s wall. Abigail couldn’t help but notice the way these two acted when they were around each other, much like close siblings. It made her heart both swell and ache at the same time.

As Maggie and Kendrick approached, Abigail arched her brow at the two pirates. “What was all that about?” she asked.

“Just some sparring practice,” Maggie replied as she sheathed her sword. “Want to make sure we’re all prepared for what lies ahead.”

Kendrick nodded his head in agreement. “Aye, have to keep this one on her toes,” he said with a good-natured jab to Maggie’s side.

Edward laughed. “Seemed to me that you’re the one that needs help staying on their feet,” he jeered as Abigail and Charlie each stifled a laugh.

Kendrick’s lips curled to a small smirk before opening his mouth to reply. Just before he could speak, the sound of someone clearing their throat caught the group’s attention.

Everyone turned to see Oliver who was now standing just behind them. He wore his familiar Navy uniform with his trusty rapier sword attached at his hip. His long, blonde locks were pulled back on his head into a loose bun.

“That was quite a duel, you two,” Oliver offered. His serious face quickly changed to one of sincerity as he faced Maggie, “You were quite impressive, Miss Margaret.”

“‘Tis Maggie,” she replied, a slight bit of annoyance written on her face before her features fell back into something more pleasant, “but thanks.”

An awkward hush fell over the group, the only sound being the waves beating against the hull and the rest of the crew working around them. Kendrick shuffled back and forth between his feet and Charlie began to closely examine her nails. 

“So,” Maggie said, finally breaking the silence, “anyone else up for sparring?”

“You want to go  _ again _ ?” Kendrick asked incredulously. 

Maggie let out a half-hearted sigh, followed by a sly smile. “Don’t be daft. I just wondered if anyone else wanted to duel each other.” When no one immediately spoke, Maggie chimed in again, “I heard you two put on quite a show,” she said, motioning to Edward and Oliver. “I would love to see it first hand.”

At this comment, Oliver straightened his body to his full height and Edward shot Maggie a small smirk.

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary-” 

“What’s wrong, Lieutenant?” Edward asked, cutting Oliver’s sentence short. “Scared that I might have the upper hand this time?” Though his demeanor was playful, there was a challenging edge to Edward’s voice.

“No,” Oliver bit back, the scowl evident on his face as he stared down the pirate captain.

Edward pulled himself from the wall and took a step forward. Abigail didn’t miss the slight wince that spread across his face as he moved.

“I think a little rematch is in order then,” Edward commented, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade that was sheathed at his side.

Abigail watched as Oliver’s pupils blew wide, though the rest of his face did not flinch.

“Very well,  _ captain, _ ” Oliver was seething, “I accept your challenge.” There was a beat of silence before Oliver spoke again. “ _ If  _ you could even call it that.”

Any playfulness that may have been left on Edward’s face vanished. His fingers tightened around his sword’s hilt then he slowly started to pull it from his scabbard. “Now you listen-” Edward’s words were cut short and he let out a small gasp of pain. He removed his hand from his blade, letting it fall back where it belonged at his side and his hand shot up to his injured shoulder.

Oliver smirked. Abigail noticed.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Abigail chimed in, silencing the two men. “Edward, you are clearly not ready for this.” Edward opened his mouth to protest but was quickly shut down as Abigail glared at him. “Do not even attempt to argue. You’re not going to fight Oliver.” Abigail turned away from the captain to face the Lieutenant. “I am.”

~~~~~

“This is ridiculous, Abigail.”

Abigail promptly ignored Oliver’s protest as she walked back out onto the topdeck with her - Robert’s - sword now at her side. 

“I’m not going to duel you,” he continued to argue even as Abigail braided her long hair.

Once her hair was tucked back and out of her face, she looked over to him. The rest of the crew, who had been busy with their morning routine, had now halted all activity and were staring at the two. The only person missing was Edward who had disappeared back below deck after Abigail scolded him when he continued to argue with her on the matter. After his third attempt at proving he could fight, Abigail deftly unbuckled the belt that held his sword, allowing it to drop to the ground as he huffed in anger. He retreated shortly after, but not before Kendrick picked up and handed the weapon back to his captain.

“It’s sparring practice,” Abigail stated, refusing to back down, “I would hardly call it a duel. We need to be prepared, just like Maggie said.”

She wasn’t able to decipher Oliver’s expression. Was it doubt? Maybe concern? Or maybe even fear? She took several steps forward until they were mere inches from each other. She searched his face and she could tell he did the same.

_ What was he looking for? _

The pair were close, she could feel his breath warm against her forehead, rustling the few loose strands that were not pulled back with the rest of her hair. This close, she could finally read the look he gave her -  _ pained _ .

He leaned in, voice dropping low enough so the others around them couldn’t hear. “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you, Abigail.”

She could have melted and dripped into the deep sea below at the tenderness in his voice. For a split-second, she reconsidered. But that notion was quickly washed from her mind and she looked into his eyes - bold, brown and beautiful. A roguish smile spread across her lips as she took a step back from him, fingers brushing against the hilt of her blade.

“Don’t worry,” she started, her grip tightening, “you won’t.”

Oliver gave her a cursory glance and to her surprise, he smiled. She didn’t miss the way his pupils dilated or the coy smirk that graced his lips before he spoke.

“Very well,” he stated resolutely. His hand went to his rapier sword, slowly pulling it from its scabbard. Abigail mirrored his actions and the two squared off, swords hoisted in front of their bodies.

For a moment, everything around them went quiet. The crew was silent and even the familiar sound of ocean waves and creaking wood were drowned out. As if the universe knew that concentration was key. As if it knew that the only people remaining in this world - in this moment - were Oliver and Abigail.

“Ready?” Oliver asked as he flicked his wrist ever so slightly.

Abigail nodded.

_ “En garde!” _

The noise of boots gliding across wood was the first sound. The second was a resounding  _ clang  _ as steel on steel echoed across the deck. Oliver’s sword was held out front where he caught Abigail’s thrusting blade. The pair locked eyes and a mischievous smile played across Abigail’s face.

She went to open her mouth, a slew of sardonic comments just begging to be released. But before she could speak Oliver spun out of her reach, thrusting his blade forward to her side. Abigail dodged just in time, trying to counter his strike which was blocked again.

For several minutes this dance went on. A multitude of swiping blades, clashing metal and parry upon parry were traded between the two. Just when one of them thought they had the upper hand, the other would come in hot, deftly blocking any arc or swipe and countering just as quickly.

“That’s it, love!” Charlie yelled from the sidelines.

“Give ‘em hell, lass!” Axton joined.

“You’ve got this, sir!” Officer Alvarez chimed in from where he stood atop the quarterdeck next to Adelia.

Abigail smirked as she pressed hard, pushing the Navy man back along the deck. They made a full circle around the mast. She was tired. The sun bore down on her, the heat zapped the strength from her body and caused sweat to bead down her face and nearly into her eyes. She almost missed the arc that came into her left side, but she quickly recovered, blocking at the last moment and pushed with all her might.

All the other noise around her disappeared again. The only sounds remaining were the clash of their blades, the sizzle of sun on her skin, the rushing of blood in her ears and the heavy pants that escaped both her and Oliver’s lips.

Suddenly she had a second wind. Another burst of energy. She allowed Oliver to push forward, pressing her back towards the wooden walls of the ship. He was fast, dangerously fast. But she was cunning and calculating. A few more swipes and then -  _ there.  _ With as much speed and dexterity that she could muster, she made her move. She feinted right, stepping to the side and watched as Oliver took the bait. Then, in an instant, her blade shifted left and swiped against his side. He did not get a chance to block.

The next sound was of tearing fabric and a pained yelp from the blonde man in front of her. Her sword found its mark, slicing a thin, shallow line across Oliver’s rib cage. 

Then it was silent, truly silent.

Abigail’s sword faltered as she took a step back. Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched him put his hand over his side. When he pulled it away his palm was ruby red and then her breath hitched in her throat.

Oliver looked up into her eyes. She expected to see anger or even pain. But instead, there was nothing, no emotion, no feeling. Then…

_ Swish! _

_ Clang! _

_ Thud! _

In an instant, Abigail's sword had been struck and dislodged from her hand, landing on the wooden deck below. She looked down at her blade in disbelief, then slowly looked back up to Oliver’s face.

He was smiling.

“Seems I have bested you, Miss Bellamy.”

Abigail’s entire face was flushed and warm. Her mouth hung open, the shock visible as she stared Oliver down. She tried to speak but was quickly silenced as she watched Oliver wince in pain, his head ducking down to look at his side.

“Are you alright, sir?”

Abigail was shaken from her stupor as Officer Doyle made his way over to his Lieutenant. The Master at Arms glared at Abigail for the briefest moment before turning his attention to his commanding officer.

“I’m fine, Doyle. No real harm done,” Oliver tried to smile but Abigail could see the way his forehead creased in distress.

Office Doyle eyed Oliver suspiciously. “Sir, I think we should at least get you bandaged up.”

Oliver merely shook his head as he sheathed his sword back at his side. Another wince and Abigail couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please, Oliver,” she pleaded, bringing the attention to her. “Let me take a look.”

Oliver began to protest but Abigail was insistent. Finally, he gave in. “Fine, there are medical supplies in my quarters.”

Relief washed over her. She bent down and picked up her sword, tucking it away to her side. She walked over to Oliver and reached out to grab his hand. “Come on, Lieutenant,” she gently tugged him along as she made their way to his cabin.

They made it about two feet when she felt his fingers lace between hers, and she smiled.

~~~~~

“I’m so sorry, Oliver.”

Abigail frantically rushed around Oliver’s cabin as she gathered all the necessary supplies to bandage up his wound. All pretense of relief was gone now that they were alone in his cabin. She gathered a pitcher of clean water, something she hoped to be the equivalent of a washcloth and a bandage roll that was tucked away on his shelf. It was times like these where she wished desperately to be back in her own time, at least with modern-day tools and medicine.

Oliver sat hunched over on the edge of his bed, his hand pressed tight against his side as Abigail had instructed. “And as I’ve already said, apology not accepted,” he replied through gritted teeth. “These things happen in a duel.”

“But it wasn’t a duel!” she scolded as she marched back over to his bed. “It was just supposed to be a simple sparring match and I went too far.”

Oliver remained silent as she placed her supplies on the floor next to the bed. Then she stood in front of him, hands on her hip, and let out a frustrated sigh.

“It’s just…” she paused, her breath was shaky and her heart pounded wildly within her chest, “I  _ hurt  _ you, Oliver. I caused this.” Abigail waved her hand to the gash on his side, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Oh, Abigail,” Oliver reached out and pulled her closer to him so she stood between his legs. Then he gently cupped his clean hand to her cheek. His thumb swiped away the few tears that started to stream down her face. His expression was pained again, just like before their sparring match. “Please don’t cry for me.” His voice was low and raspy, but also delicate and full of adoration.

Abigail leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. “I never want to see you hurt like this ever again.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Please, it’s alright, darling.” The ache in his voice came through loud and clear and it only made Abigail cry more.

Then she heard the bed shift and then a hiss of pain escape from his lips. The warmth from his touch soon disappeared and Abigail quickly opened her eyes. Oliver was doubled over, clenching his side.

“Oliver, what-”

She was swiftly silenced when Oliver held up one of his hands, his palm still colored a deep crimson. “‘Tis nothing, I moved too suddenly.”

Abigail frowned.

_ This man is just as stubborn as Edward. _

“I need to see it,” she stated as she took a step back from between his legs. “Can you remove your jacket?”

Oliver nodded and moved his hands to work on his buttons. He tried to ease the jacket from his shoulders but hissed in pain again. Abigail instinctively leaned forward and helped him shrug off his Navy jacket and tossed it to the side of the bed.

Abigail inhaled sharply at the sight in front of her. Toned, fair skin greeted her once his jacket was removed. Taut muscles flexed involuntarily between labored breaths. Abigail couldn’t help but think of all the Greek Gods she grew up reading about and watching on TV and how none of them compared to the man in front of her. Not even Adonis or Hercules himself could compete.

Then he groaned and Abigail’s attention went to his injured side. Her eyes grew wide at the sight. A long, thin line split the skin between two of his rib bones. The area around the gash was red, a mixture of dried and fresh blood. The skin itself was red as well, and Abigail prayed to those same Gods that the wound wasn’t infected.

With trembling hands, Abigail reached town to pick up the washcloth and placed it in the water pitcher. She wrung the excess water from the cloth then sat down on the edge of the bed beside him.

“I’m going to clean this up,” she said and Oliver nodded. Abigail reached forward but hesitated just before she touched his skin, “this is probably going to sting,” then she pressed the wet cloth to his side.

Oliver hissed through clench teeth and his body jerked slightly. After a moment of wiping, she could feel his muscles relax slightly.

“I could sure go for a pint right about now.”

Abigail let out an amused snort, “is that supposed to be a joke, Lieutenant?”

“Yes and no,” he said with a brilliant smile, which immediately turned to a grimace.

Abigail continued to wipe away at his wound until all remnants of blood were gone and all that was left was the nasty laceration. She used the rest of the water to wipe her hands then dried them off on her blouse. As she examined the gash she thanked the stars that the cut wasn’t deep.

“How does it look?” he asked.

“Not as bad as it probably feels,” she answered with a reassuring smile, “Thankfully, I don’t think you’ll need stitches. I’ll just get you bandaged up.” Abigail grabbed the bandage roll from the ground and got to work wrapping the material around his waist. Once she was satisfied that the bandage would hold, Abigail got up from the bed to put away the supplies.

“I owe you my thanks,” Oliver said as he inspected the bandage. 

“Hardly, if it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t even need it,” she replied. Oliver shot her a knowing look and instantly she softened and added, “but you’re welcome, all the same.”

Oliver smiled then grabbed his torn jacket from the bed and began to slowly throw it over his shoulders.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Abigail asked as Oliver stood from the bed.

His brows furrowed, “I can’t very well attend to the helm without my uniform.”

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere. You need to rest,” Abigail was surprised at the motherly strict tone that she spoke with. But there was no way she was going to allow him to go back to work after what just happened. No, she had other plans.

“I’m fine,” he countered, but Abigail saw the way he winced when he took a step.

She walked over until she stood just in front of him. “I’m not going to argue with you,” she replied calmly, bringing her hands up to rest on his shoulders.

He swallowed.  _ Hard _ . “Good, we’re in agreeance then.”

“I think so,” she slowly walked him back towards his bed. When the back of his knees touched the edge of his bed, Abigail pushed him ever so gently until he sat down. His hands instinctively went to her waist. The two stared at each other and for a moment, Abigail almost forgot what she was doing. He was such a sight for sore eyes - cheeks tinged pink, lips parted and pupils blown wide.

She mentally shook her head, bringing her mind back to the task at hand. She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his flushed cheek until her breath tickled his ear. She felt his fingers flex against her sides. The smell of salt and leather filled her senses. His muscles relaxed beneath her hands and she couldn’t help but smirk.

_ He was done for. _

When she spoke, her voice was but a low murmur, “can you sit still for me, Oliver?”

There was a shift in dynamics at that moment. She more so felt than saw his head nodding in response and she knew that this time around, she had bested him.

Abigail pulled away from his ear, allowing her lips to brush against his cheek again. Then she twisted her body out of his grasp, taking him by surprise, and headed for the cabin door.

“Wh- what are you doing?” she heard him call as she opened the door.

“Taking care of the helm while  _ you  _ rest.”

Then she closed the door behind her, leaving Oliver alone. She waited a moment to see if he would follow her out. After a few minutes of hearing no movement from inside, she knew that her plan had worked.

With a triumphant smile - and a slight blush as she remembered his touch on her skin - Abigail walked up the steps to the helm. With minor convincing, she was able to relieve Officer Alvarez of his station and took over.

She looked over the scene that laid in front of her. The white, billowing sails atop long, strong wooden beams casting shadows on the deck. A vast, turquoise ocean that was full of mystery and wonders blanketed around them. The gold, inviting sun - a sun that previously hindered her actions - beamed down on her skin providing warmth and something akin to hope. These things were simple, refreshing and welcoming.

And as she stood tall and proud at the ship’s wheel, wind sweeping across her face, she had only one thought.

This was someplace she could call home.

~~~~~

Oliver was dumbfounded as he sat alone in his cabin. His fingertips were warm from where they dimpled into her skin. His face tingled where her lips had been. He almost forgot about the pain on his side.

Almost.

He didn’t bother to give chase. He knew she was right - because she always was. So instead of getting up to attend to his duties, Oliver decided to take her advice and rest.

Once his boots and jacket were removed, Oliver laid back on his bed, careful to mind his bandages. As he closed his eyes, visions danced in his mind of one particular pirate woman. She seemed to be the only person that crossed his mind nowadays. He didn’t mind it, not anymore. He thought about what it would be like to have that woman on his mind for the rest of his time. He thought about the days ahead and how she would handle them. He thought about what might happen if things went their way. He thought about them. A future - their future - together.

And with those thoughts, Oliver’s body relaxed enough until he fell into a deep, worriless sleep.

~~~~~

When Oliver awoke it was dark. The moonlight streamed through his windows, illuminating only parts of his sleeping quarters.

_ How long had he been asleep? _

He leaned up, then immediately jerked at the throbbing pain at his side. He inhaled deeply, waiting for the sudden wave of pain to dissipate before he shifted again and placed his hand on his ribs.

_ Ah, right. _

Ever so carefully, Oliver eased himself from his bed and went to work lighting the lantern that hung above his desk. Once there was sufficient lighting, he looked down at his ribs. The bandage that Abigail had wrapped about his torso was still in place. The section of the bandage where the wound was located was slightly damp with blood, though most of it had dried and he hoped that the healing process would be swift.

Within a few minutes, Oliver had pulled on his boots and shrugged on a new jacket, tossing his torn one to the side of the room. He made a mental note to have it tailored after all this business with his father was complete.

Walking out of his cabin, Oliver was hit with the familiar sensations of being on the open sea. The brisk wind ruffled through his hair. The crash of water to wood filled his ears. The comforting scent of salted ocean spray lingered in his nose. Out in the deep, blue sea, Oliver felt calm. He felt at peace.

He felt home.

“Lieutenant Cochrane!”

Oliver turned toward the person who yelled his name. Officer Alvarez was across the deck but swiftly made his way over to his commanding officer. Oliver noted that his officer wore an uncharacteristic smile as he sidled up to him but didn’t question it.

“Evening, Alvarez,” Oliver greeted.

“Evening, sir. How are you faring?” Officer Alvarez motioned to Oliver’s abdomen. The smile he had previously worn was now turned to a worrisome scowl.

Oliver waved off his concern. “‘Tis fine.” The last thing he needed was his men to see him as weak.

His officer didn’t look convinced but before Alvarez could speak further, Oliver spoke again.

“I thought you were manning the helm tonight,” Oliver asked, his brow raised in question. “Why is Doyle up there?” Oliver waved up to the quarterdeck where Officer Doyle manned the helm. Even in the darkness, the Lieutenant could make out the glum expression on his officer’s face.

Officer Alvarez looked away from his commanding officer’s gaze, “Well, uh, I…” The officer’s voice trailed off as a hand wrapped around his waist, seemingly coming out of nowhere.

“They flipped a coin,” the comment came from the young, twin girl who always seemed to linger around Oliver’s men, “to see who would man the wheel,” Adelia smiled as she leaned in close to Officer Alvarez, “and Doyle lost.”

Oliver stared at the two, his lips quirking into the faintest smile, “I see, very well. Enjoy your evening, then.” Oliver turned around but before he could step away he heard Adelia call behind him.

“Oi, Lieutenant!” Oliver stopped and faced the pair again. “Aren’t you going to join us?”

Oliver’s brows shot up and his mouth opened and closed several times, unable to speak. Many thoughts raced through his head. He wondered how quickly it would take for him to retreat to his cabin and away from this extremely uncomfortable and embarrassing situation.

Oliver wasn’t a prude, but he certainly wasn’t a scoundrel, either.

Adelia barked out a laughed, “Get your mind outta the gutter! The crew is settin’ up in the mess hall. Heard a little rumor that rum would be involved.”

“I hope that’s alright, sir,” Alvarez hastily added, noticing the look on his commanding officer’s face.

Oliver didn’t bother to hide the sigh of relief. He pushed the thought of his officer and this woman completely out of his mind. Erasing it from his memory before it had any time to sit and manifest.

“Oh, yes, of course. Sounds enjoyable.” Oliver went to open his mouth again but quickly shut it again. He loved a good pint as much as anyone, but the company is what made it  _ actually _ enjoyable.

By the look on Adelia’s face, he wondered if she knew what exactly was going through his mind.

“ _ Everyone _ will be there, Lieutenant,” she assured him.

Oliver looked at the pirate girl, the smile on her face was as big as the moon above. It was infectious and Oliver couldn’t help but smile back. ”Then I’ll be there.”

~~~~~

Oliver followed Adelia and Alvarez into the bustling mess hall. He wondered, not for the first time, how a crew so small could be so loud. The hall was filled with raucous laughter and yelling. Tables, chairs and benches scraped across the wooden floor as the pirate crew pushed them into one large seating area for everyone to sit around.

His eyes roamed the space, subtly searching for one pirate in particular. Once his eyes landed on her, he smiled and then made his way over.

“Good evening, Miss Bellamy,” he greeted.

Her back was to him but she spun around at his greeting. “Evenin’, Lieutenant. How was your nap?”

Oliver hadn’t a clue what she meant. He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to question her but the face she made let him know that she saw his confusion.

“Er, I mean, rest. How was your rest?”

“‘Twas fine,” he replied. He was feeling bold and slightly refreshed from his ‘nap’ as she had called it. He took a step towards her until their shoulders brushed together. “Though, that was an awfully dirty trick you played on me earlier,” Oliver chided, his voice low so the others couldn’t hear.

Abigail grinned and Oliver decided that he would move all the stars in the sky if it would make her smile again.

“You needed to rest,” she scolded, but her tone was playful. “I know you’re the one who usually gives the orders,” she was right up against him now, her hand brushing against his arm, “I can see why you enjoy it.”

Oliver knew then and there that death was a wicked woman with long, braided hair and a silver tongue. And he welcomed her with open arms.

“Abigail,” he warned. Oliver’s whole body shuddered at her touch. His hand instinctively wound around her waist until it found purchase on the small of her back. He leaned in close and smiled when he felt her shiver beneath his touch. “You make it very difficult for one to remain...,” he traced his thumb slowly along the grooves of her spine, “gentlemanly.”

The blush that filled her cheeks was the most beautiful color he had ever seen. Every wall in his home would be painted that color. All the flowers in his garden would be the exact shade. He would no longer dream in black and white, not when the color of rosy cheeks could fill his mind instead.

“Oliver...”

“Alright you two, give us a hand!” a little voice sounded from behind them.

As quickly as Oliver and Abigail came together, they swiftly sprung apart in surprise. Turning around they were faced with a young and feisty Ginny. She had one hand wrapped around a wooden chair, the other placed on her hip. 

“My apologies, Miss Ginny,” Oliver offered with a shy smile.

Ginny just rolled her eyes but her lips still quirked into a grin. The young pirate walked away, dragging the chair behind her. Oliver faced back to Abigail who was now bending over to pick up one end of a bench.

“Little help?” Abigail asked, raising her brow towards the other side of the bench.

With a smile, he made his way over to the other end, deftly picking up his end of the bench and helped Abigail move it to the center of the mess hall with the rest of the crew. Soon after, the pirate crew, Officer Alvarez and Oliver crowded around a long table, tankards full of rum in hand. Whether it had been fate or sheer coincidence - Oliver didn’t mind either way - Abigail took the spot on the bench just next to him.

“Tell us, Ollie, how did a Navy vessel come away with so much rum?” Kendrick asked, “Always took it as more of a  _ pirate  _ drink.”

Oliver’s jaw clenched at the nickname. It hadn’t been the first time he heard it, but it was never one that had grown on him. He opened his mouth to respond but before he could speak, Henry cut in with the answer.

“That be my idea,” Henry started, using his hooked hand to scratch a spot on his chin, “told ‘em to have plenty o’ rum if he were plannin’ to harbor a pirate crew.”

“That so?” The twins asked concurrently before tapping their tankards together in cheers.

“Well, now that we’ve got the rum, how ‘bout an ‘ole fashioned drinkin’ game to pass the time?” Charlie suggested to the group with a grin.

There were a few cheers of agreement and nodding heads from the pirate crew. Oliver even noticed his officer nodding enthusiastically at the idea. Then Oliver turned to Abigail, only to see that she was staring right at him.

“How does that sound, Oliver?” she asked.

At that moment, the rest of the crew around them grew quiet, as if his response was the only one that mattered. And in theory, supposedly it was, considering he was the one in charge of the ship. He hesitated then looked around at the waiting faces that surrounded him. He felt the brush of something - someone - against his knee. Her knee.

_ And he knew, right then, that he would  _ never  _ be able to deny her anything. _

“That sounds fantastic,” he finally relented with a smile.

Another round of cheers erupted in the room. Fists were banging on the table and rum spilled out of their tankards. Soon the group was trying to decide what game to play.

“How ‘bout Two Lies and a Truth?” Maggie suggested.

“Naw, too easy, that one,” Jonas argued.

“What about Spin the Bottle?” Adelia proposed, nudging her elbow into Officer Alvarez’s rib.

Ginny scrunched her nose, “hell no!”

“I’ve got it!” Charlie yelled over the group, “we’ll play Never Have I.”

There was a beat of silence as each person mulled the idea over in their heads. Oliver had never been one to play such frivolous games before, but he had a good idea about what this one might be.

“Phenomenal idea, Charlie,” Edward said, much to everyone’s surprise. 

More raucous cheers and Oliver wondered if he would ever get used to all the noise they made. 

“I’ve never played this one,” Ginny announced to the group. Her face had an excited and wondrous gleam to it. Oliver had thought it strange to have a child aboard a pirate ship. But then again here he was with an entire pirate crew on his own Navy ship. Things could be stranger.

“‘Tis simple, lass,” Kendrick started, “each person will say something they’ve never done and if ye have done it, you drink!”

“I’ll start!” Abigail declared, “never have I been a pirate captain.”

All eyes went to Edward who merely smirked, then took a drink from his tankard. “You play dirty, Miss Bellamy,” the pirate captain remarked.

“I think I get it now!” Ginny beamed, “can I go next?” she asked, turning to Jonas for reassurance. Jonas nodded his head and Ginny clapped her hands wildly before turning back to the rest of the group. “Never have I rode a horse!” 

With the exception of Maggie, Henry and Abigail, everyone else at the table took a drink. After Oliver took his sip, he looked to Abigail in surprise. “Truly?” he asked.

“Truly, I never have.”

“I’d love to teach you one day,” Oliver offered, his shoulder brushing against hers, “if you would let me.”

A look that Oliver couldn’t quite decipher crossed over Abigail’s face. It was brief, barely lasting a second before she smiled at him again. “I would enjoy that,” she replied.

“I’ve got one,” Axton announced, pulling Oliver’s attention away from the woman next to him. “Never have I gone swimming in the nude!”

There was a boisterous amount of laughter from the crew as several people took a drink.

“Ginny!” Jonas scolded, “why did you drink?”

“What? Of course I’ve done it! When I was a wee babe!” she countered. 

There was more laughter. But this time, Oliver found himself joining in. He started to relax. A feeling he was not accustomed to. But it was welcomed and relieving and he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could get used to it.

As the night went one, more questions and revelations were shared among the group.

“Never have I vomited over the rail of a ship,” Charlie asked. Kendrick winced as he drank.

“Never have I lost a bet,” Officer Doyle queried. Everyone but Oliver drank.

Abigail gave him an incredulous look, “I think you’re lying, Lieutenant. Are you telling me you’ve  _ never  _ lost a bet?”

“I’ve never been much of a betting man,” he replied coolly before leaning closer to speak in her ear, “but that could change.”

“Never have I broken a bone,” Henry proposed. Abigail, Axton and Jonas all drank.

“Never have I wanted to bag a Navy man,” Maggie asked, her gaze instantly darting to Adelia who had moved from her chair to now sitting in Officer Alvarez’s lap.

All eyes were on Adelia as she laughed and took a big gulp from her tankard. Oliver, however, glanced out of the corner of his eyes, watching Abigail’s reaction. She was quiet but the recognizable blush creeping up from her collar was all he could focus on. Then he watched as she lifted her tankard to her lips and took a small sip of her rum.

_ She was going to send him to a watery grave. _

To Oliver’s absolute surprise - and relief - no one else had seemed to notice. Or if they did, they didn’t bother to comment on it. 

The moment was passed over quickly as the game continued. Oliver tried to focus on the question that Ginny was asking, but all he could think about was flushing skin and pouty lips resting on the rim of a tankard filled with rum. He drank from his cup after the next question was asked, even though he didn’t have the faintest idea what was asked.

More time passed, more questions were asked and more rum was consumed. Ginny was the first to go. She was quickly losing her battle against sleep and Jonas carried her off to bed. Adelia and Officer Alvarez followed suit, her hand wound tightly in his. She shot a wink at the group as they made their way out the door. After a few more departures, the game stopped and the remaining few - Maggie, Henry, Oliver and Abigail - stayed behind to finish their drinks.

“That was a blast!” Maggie exclaimed as she downed the rest of her rum. “We should do that again.”

Henry hiccuped then turned to Maggie, “yer a fool if ye think I’m ever playin’ another game with you lot.”

Oliver simply tuned out the two pirates as they continued to bicker. Twisting in his seat, Oliver turned to face Abigail who was staring ahead. She wore a huge, dopey smile which only made his heart pitter-patter in his chest.

“You’re staring.”

Oliver heard the words that came from her lovely lips, but instead of feeling alarmed from being caught, he only grinned. “That I am,” he replied, “it can’t be helped. You’re a vision of beauty.”

When Abigail tilted her head to face him, her giant smile receded to something smaller and more tender. Oliver realized then what he had said aloud.

“I, uh, it’s just... I mean...” he was tripping over his words. Somehow, after years of studies in language and manners, he was now turning into a bumbling idiot.

“Oliver,” Abigail interrupted. Her voice was so quiet, so delicate. It made his chest swell with a feeling he couldn’t possibly describe right now, given his inebriated state. But then she went and put her hand on his. “Would you like to go outside?”

Oliver blinked.

“Yes, please.”

~~~~~

Abigail had not been this drunk in a long time. Even on the night where Robert’s crew and hers had stayed up drinking and playing games. Though she thought maybe she was drunk on more than just the alcohol, she would deny it to anyone that asked. No one would ask, of course.

After bidding farewell to Maggie and Henry - who were still bickering somehow - Oliver and Abigail made their way out of the mess hall and onto the deck of  _ The Intrepid _ . The moon was high above them now. The light from it and the stars illuminated the deck and reflected off the dark sea around them.

As they walked, Abigail snuck several glances to the man by her side. She also snuck a couple looks down at their hands that were intertwined between them. She wondered how in the world this could feel so right - so  _ natural.  _ She didn’t want to think about it too hard. In fear that maybe it wasn’t real. That she was dreaming.

“How are you feeling?” Abigail asked as they made their way to the ship’s railing.

“Are you asking if I’m as sloshed as everyone else?” he responded, a hint of a smile on his lips, “or do you want to know how my infamous battle wound is faring?”

_ Oh, she was  _ loving  _ drunk Oliver. _

“I wouldn’t call it ‘infamous,’ per se,” she quipped back.

The grin he gave her was downright hedonistic.

Once they were standing at the ship’s railing, a comfortable silence fell over the two of them. The distant sound of dancing water and whipping sails could be faintly heard above her own beating heart. Whether the cause was from the alcohol or the pure adrenaline she was feeling, she wasn’t quite sure.

“I feel like I learned quite a bit about you, tonight,” Oliver said after a few minutes of silence.

Abigail nodded her head in agreement. She thought back to that first night here on the ship. When they stood in this very spot. It was wild to her that even after only a couple of days, she felt like she could tell him anything. She wanted to tell him anything.

_ Almost anything. _

“I could tell you more,” she offered. It was partly the booze talking, but mostly it was her.

“I would like that,” he responded, his gaze falling on her face, “very much so.”

Abigail turned towards him and rested her elbow on the railing, propping her head up. “Go on, then. Ask me a question.”

“Very well,” he smiled. His thumb gently started to rub across her knuckles. He looked away from her face and instead glanced up towards the stars like he was deep in thought. After a moment his expression lit up as a question had no doubt entered his mind.

“Tell me, how did you break your bone?”

Abigail wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth. She was already hating herself for not being forthcoming with him in the first place about where she was  _ really  _ from. But right now, in their drunken state, she knew that the truth would be the last thing she brought up. So with the last few sober brain cells she had, she worked out a believable story that hopefully wouldn’t confuse him.

“I fell from a tree when I was a twelve,” it wasn’t a total lie, even though it was technically a treehouse. “I could tell my arm was broken. The pain was agonizing and my arm was all lumpy,” not to mention broken in several places per the x-ray she received.

“That sounds horrendous,” he stated with wide eyes.

“It was,” she agreed. A shudder wracked her body just from the thought.

“Was that the only time?” he asked, “that you broke a bone?” Abigail nodded and Oliver just hummed in response.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked and Oliver nodded in response. “How long have you been with the Navy?”

“I had just turned fifteen. It was a few months after my mother had passed. I always knew I would follow in my father’s footsteps and once she was gone, there was no reason to wait further.”

Abigail thought her heart was going to break. “Oh, Oliver, I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

Oliver turned to face her, but instead of pain and grief, all she saw was joy. “‘Tis no worry, Abigail, I promise. It has been so long since I’ve spoken about her. It’s actually quite… nice.”

Abigail squeezed his hand and smiled when he returned the gesture, “I’m glad, then.”

They were quiet for a moment before Abigail spoke again, “Can I ask you another question?”

“Are we not taking turns?” he jested and Abigail couldn’t help but roll her eyes. He continued, “of course, be my guest.”

“Do you have any siblings?” she asked.

“I do not,” he responded, “my mother used to tell me that ‘you can’t mess with perfection.’”

Abigail snorted, “that is so corny.”

Oliver furrowed his brow, “corny? Does that mean endearing where you are from?”

_ Shit. _

“Oh, yes, something like that,” she mentally kicked herself for not being more careful but when Oliver nodded his head in understanding, she sighed in relief. She quickly changed the subject. “I believe you are next to ask a question.”

Oliver looked back out to the stars again, his free hand tracing the shape of his chin as he thought.

“Alright,” he said after a moment, “what am I to you, truly?”

Abigail’s head was swimming by this point, but she remembered this question. The same one he asked her all those days ago in a small tavern in  _ Tiburon _ . She could even remember what her response was, as well.

_ “You’ll be more than a  _ friend  _ by the end of the night.” _

The grin that he gave her just now was most definitely the same one he gave her that night. She knew he was thinking of it, as well.

“Well,” she could feel the heat burning on her cheeks, “I think I can say, in earnest, you are definitely a friend.”

“I see,” was his only reply before telling her to ask him a question.

“Are you still my eternal servant?” she asked after a moment of hesitation.

He was silent. His gaze was distant as his eyes looked out over the ocean. The steady thumping of her heart grew louder and louder as the silence dragged on. Until…

“For all eternity.”

Then her heart stopped and Abigail knew that if this was her last second on Earth, that she would die a happy and fulfilled woman. She knew, somehow, that every moment in her life led to this. So when she felt her body lean forward, she didn’t stop it. When she vaguely heard the sound of her name on his lips, she didn’t hesitate. And when it felt like her body was falling, she let it.

Except she actually fell. On the deck.  _ Hard _ .

“Abigail!” there it was again, her name on his lips. Though this time it was frantic and full of alarm. “Are you alright?”

She felt his touch on her back rubbing soothing circles along her skin. “I’m- I’m fine.”

_ She was most definitely not fine. _

“I think that’s enough excitement for one night,” he commented as he helped her back to her feet. “May I walk you to your cabin?”

Abigail only nodded in response. For fear that her mouth would betray and embarrass her. Oliver reached out for her hand again, lacing his fingers with hers. Slowly, they walked together to her cabin.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Oliver said. It was as if he could read her mind - which wouldn’t be the strangest that could happen to her given the past few weeks.

“I’m not,” she lied.

She was too nervous to look him in the face, but she could feel his skeptical gaze boring into her. But as they walked, and as Oliver continued to glide his thumb over her skin with tender strokes, Abigail let the embarrassment wash away. Soon they stood outside her cabin and by then she had already forgotten about her little ‘spill’ on the deck.

The alcohol probably had something to do with her memory loss, as well.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked, the question catching both of them off guard.

Oliver smiled, then blushed but eventually frowned and shook his head.

“I don’t think that to be wise tonight, Abigail.”

For a moment, she felt hurt. As they stood outside her cabin, Abigail thought back hazily through the past few days and wondered if she had misinterpreted everything. All the indirect glances, subtle flirting and intimate touches. Had she crossed a line? Had she got this wrong?

She looked up into his eyes, hoping that he couldn’t sense the tears she was now holding back. But then his face turned to something akin to concern.

“Oh, Abigail, I just mean…” his voice trailed for a moment and the way he looked, she realized that maybe he knew exactly what she was thinking. “What I mean is, given our current state, tonight might not be the best night to, well, go any further than this.” He held up their conjoined hands, she assumed to emphasize what ‘this’ was. He continued, “I don’t want you to think I would take advantage of the situation.”

Realization quickly dawned on her. Not only was he handsome, smart and kind. He also knew what consent was and goddammit if that didn’t make Abigail want him more.

“You really are a gentleman,” Abigail replied and a wave a relief washed over her when he smiled at her comment.

“Would I lie to you?” he asked, then just as quickly as he said those words, he spoke again, “don’t answer that.”

Abigail laughed, “Alright Lieutenant, I think it’s time we both get some rest.”

“Agreed,” he said, giving his head a little nod.

Abigail went to pull her hand from his but felt his grip tighten lightly. Then he lifted her hand - while never breaking eye contact - and brought it to his lips. There, he left a lingering kiss against her knuckles and smiled against her skin.

“Goodnight, darling.”

She was barely able to choke out the word ‘goodnight,” as her breath caught in her throat. Oliver released her hand then she felt him watch her as she entered her cabin.

Once Abigail closed the door, she leaned her back against it and let out a deep sigh. It took almost a full minute for her to hear his footsteps walking away from her door. She smiled to herself as she got undressed and crawled into her bed. She turned on her side, tucking her hands under her head and within minutes she was out. Any thoughts of the Admiral, Robert or the future were long gone.

Everything was  _ Oliver _ .


	4. Day Three: Precipice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: nsfw

Abigail could count every hangover she’d ever had on one hand. And out of all those times, this one was the absolute worst.

She tried to squeeze her eyes shut tight as the sunshine filtered in through the tiny porthole window. When that didn’t work, Abigail rolled over in the bed to face the cabin wall, hoping that would be enough to block out the hellish rays that beamed into the room. But when that failed, she shoved her head under her pillow, and for a moment, that seemed to help.

But then someone knocked on her door -  _ loud _ . Or maybe it was just an ordinary knock, but in Abigail’s hungover state, it sounds like a cannon shot repeatedly directly next to her ear.

Abigail groaned then pulled the pillow tighter against her face. She decided to ignore the asshole at the door and hoped they would take the hint and walk away.

_ Knock knock. _

She clenched her jaw but didn’t move. She wasn’t going to give in that easy. After a few seconds, she finally started to relax again and willed her body to sleep.

_ Knock knock knock! _

“Oh, for the love of!”

Abigail flung the pillow across the cabin then untangled herself from the bedding. Preparing to berate whoever was on the other side, she swiftly strode across the room and threw open the door. 

“What?” Abigail asked through gritted teeth.

“Well, good mornin’ to you, too, love.”

Abigail winced at the cheery tone from the Quartermaster, who was standing just outside the door. Charlie smiled then took a bite from the apple in her hand before pushing past Abigail and walking into the room. Abigail blinked once, twice, then finally closed the door and made her way back to her bed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Charlie questioned as Abigail tried to bury herself under the covers. She had given up on retrieving the pillow - it was too far.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Abigail questioned back, turning over so her back was now to her pirate friend.

Abigail could hear the huff come from the woman behind her. Then the sound of boots walking closer to the bed before the blanket was seized from her body.

“Charlie!” Abigail yelped. She sat up in the bed - too fast which made her head swim - and glared at her friend. Charlie merely smirked, then took another bite out of the red fruit.

“Sorry, love, but ‘tis time you get up. Can’t have you loungin’ ‘round all day while us hard workers toil away.”

Abigail wanted to scream. But the thought of any further loud noise just made her cranium throb further.

“Here, drink this,” Charlie said, pulling a flask out of one of her hidden pockets.

Abigail nearly gagged at the sight of the thing. “No way. I’m never drinking again.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Yer loss,” she replied before taking a sip from her flask.

“How can you even drink this early?”

“I’m a  _ pirate,  _ Abigail,” Charlie answered as if her response didn’t require further explanation. Abigail was so tired and achy and  _ annoyed  _ that she didn’t bother to question it further. “Now come on, get dressed. Let’s go start the day,” Charlie said as she tucked the flask away and took a few more bites of her apple.

At that, Abigail looked down and realized she was dressed only in her undergarments. She was embarrassed for a brief moment, but between the pounding headache and her dry mouth, she decided she didn’t care. Though her body resisted at first, eventually Abigail crawled out of bed again and she grabbed her clothes. She got dressed then followed Charlie out of her cabin.

“Where did you get that?” Abigail asked Charlie as she gestured to the apple in her hand.

“Henry had a few of ‘em stashed back in the galley,” Charlie replied. “He was movin’ a bit slow today so I was able to snatch one. I’ll get another one for ye.”

Abigail nodded, “thanks.”

The pair reached the top deck of  _ The Intrepid  _ and Abigail had to cover her eyes with her arm. The sun, which was well high in the sky and blisteringly hot, bore down on her skin. Abigail wondered if jumping overboard would be a better fate than facing the world today.

Also, everything above-deck was loud. Mind-numbingly loud. A jump into the ocean sounded better and better by the minute.

Charlie took off for the galley as Abigail made her way over to Axton and Maggie. Abigail was surprised at how jovial the pair seemed. Had she been the only one to get truly hammered the night before?

“Mornin’, Abigail!” the two other pirates greeted.

Abigail winced. “How are you all so damn cheerful today?”

Maggie’s smile faltered. “What’s wrong?” she asked, lowering her tone to something more soothing.

“It’s nothing,” Abigail lied. “I could sure go for some Tylenol right about now, though.”

Axton and Maggie exchanged a befuddled look between each other before turning back to Abigail with confused expressions.

Abigail sighed. “Nevermind.”

Before either of them could speak further, Charlie sauntered up and shoved a bright red apple into Abigail’s hand. “Here you go, love.”

Abigail shot her an appreciative smile then took a bite of the delicious fruit. She hummed to herself as she took several more bites.

“So,” Maggie began, “any word from the Lieutenant?”

Abigail swallowed the bit of apple left in her mouth. “What do you mean?”

“Hasn’t been out his cabin all mornin’,” Axton replied nonchalantly. “His men say that he was still sleeping when they checked earlier.”

“Look at that, you might have found your equal,” Charlie jested, jabbing her elbow into Abigail’s side. Abigail rolled her eyes - which hurt... a lot - and continued to eat her apple without a word.

“Maybe you should check on him, Abigail?” Maggie suggested with a sly grin. “You two seemed pretty chummy when ye left last night.”

Abigail was sure her face had turned the exact same shade as the fruit in her hand. Her memories were a bit hazy, but she could vaguely remember how close she and Oliver had been while sitting in the mess hall the previous night. She could remember the look he had given her. Remembered grabbing his hand.

Her cheeks only darkened further.

“Were we that obvious?” Abigail asked. To her chagrin, all three other companions nodded their heads. “Well, guess I’ll go wake him up, then,” she replied before taking one last bite of her apple and throwing it over the rail of the ship. Somehow in her state of stupor she was feeling surprisingly bold.

Without another word, Abigail turned away from her friends and made her way to the Lieutenant’s sleeping quarters. She stood outside the door and debated whether to knock or to just go inside, deciding on the latter.

The lanterns were off but the sun still streamed in from the windows, illuminating most of the room. It was quiet, save for the small snores coming from the man lying in bed. Abigail silently made her way to the bed where Oliver was fast asleep.

The first thing she noticed was his hair. His blonde locks were out of his usual bun and were now cascading all around his face, neck and pillow. His lips were parted just slightly. He looked peaceful. Angelic.  _ Perfect _ .

Her eyes roved down his body, taking in the bandage that was now loosely wrapped around his waist. She frowned when she saw the dried blood around the area where the wound was. 

She continued to assess his sleeping form, her eyes traveling further and further. Her eyes stopped just as she saw the spot where his hips met the blanket. She felt her cheeks flush with warmth and had to push out the depraved thoughts filling her mind at that moment.

Without thinking, Abigail sat on the edge of his bed. She reached her hand out and gently pushed back several strands of hair. Then she ran her fingers down his cheek to his jaw.

She wondered if she could stop time right then and there. If she could be frozen forever in this moment. Forever with him.

But then he stirred, making Abigail instinctively pull her hand back. She watched as Oliver slowly blinked his eyes a few times, adjusting to the light. She could see his body tense as he realized someone was there, but then he relaxed once his eyes met hers.

“Abigail?” Oliver’s voice was still husky with sleep. He rubbed his eyes and yawned then winced in pain as he tried to sit up.

“Hey, careful,” Abigail’s voice was soft and nurturing as she leaned over to help him up. “What hurts?”

“Everything,” he answered through a hoarse laugh. He finally sat up enough to prop his back against the wall. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, this ship can’t very well run without its captain,” Abigail joked as she turned to face him more.

Tilting his head back against the wood, Oliver hummed thoughtfully before closing his eyes. “You don’t want to take over for me then?” he asked, his face neutral.

“I can’t tell if that’s a joke or not,” she said as she furrowed her brows. Oliver simply smiled, causing Abigail to roll her eyes. “Well, either way, you should get up.”

Abigail stood from the bed and made her way over to the pitcher of water. She grabbed some clean cloth before sitting on the bed again. Oliver opened one of his eyes and glanced sideways at her. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Cleaning your wound,” she said resolutely. “Now lift your arms so I can remove the bandages.”

Oliver complied, holding his arms up so Abigail could work on taking off the soiled bandages. Once they were removed, she tossed them aside then inspected the cut. She breathed a sigh of relief as she realized it was mostly healed over and didn’t look to be infected. She grabbed the cloth and dipped it into the water before wringing out the excess.

“This is probably-”

“Going to sting?” Oliver said with a smirk as he finished her sentence. “Don’t worry, I trust you.”

Abigail gave him a warm smile before pressing the wet cloth to his skin. He didn’t jerk but she could feel his muscles constricting below her touch. She wiped away any remaining dried blood until all that was left was the laceration.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” she asked him as she cleaned her hands with the remaining water and put the pitcher and soiled cloth away on his shelf.

Oliver raised his brow. “The good first.”

“Okay,” she began, sitting back down on the bed to face him, “It looks to be healing well and you shouldn’t need any more bandages.”

“That is good,” Oliver agreed as he looked down at the wound. “Now, the bad?”

Abigail looked at the wound then back up to Oliver’s face. “You’re going to have a real nasty scar.”

Oliver chuckled then reached out and grabbed Abigail’s hand. He laced his fingers with hers and smiled. “Now I’ll always have a piece of you with me,” he replied. His voice was so sweet and tender that Abigail thought she would melt into a puddle right then and there.

“Now then,” Oliver began as he rubbed his thumb along the inside of her wrist, “how are you, today?”

It was as if Abigail had forgotten all about her pounding headache until that moment. Now that the attention was on her, the pain was back in full force. “I’ve been better,” she admitted.

Oliver frowned. “What’s the matter?”

She laughed lightly to herself. “I had way too much to drink last night,” she said, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. 

“Ah, yes, I know the feeling,” Oliver chuckled. “Why don’t you get some rest?” 

Abigail shook her head. “No, it’s alright. I should get out there and face the day.”

Oliver smiled then pulled her hand to his lips and placed a few kisses on her knuckles. Abigail returned the smile then gingerly unclasped their hands and stood from the bed. She started to walk towards the door then turned around when she didn’t hear him move.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.

Oliver gave her a sheepish grin. “I’ll meet you out there,” he answered but when she didn’t budge, he sighed. “I need to get dressed,” he said, motioning to his body while looking at his Navy uniform that sat on his desk.

Abigail’s eyes wandered to the neatly folded pile of clothes. She felt her face burn and eyes widen with realization. “Oh,” she stammered out, then turned so she was looking away from him. “I won’t look.”

She heard him laugh then shift and stand from the bed. Then she heard his footsteps and the rustling of clothes behind her. A few moments later she felt his hand slide along her lower back.

“Ready?” he asked. His lips were right by her ear and his voice was low. It sent a shiver down her spine. She nodded her head in response and together they made their way out of his cabin and into the waiting sun beyond.

~~~~~

“How was your evening?” Abigail asked Adelia as they made their way into the mess hall for supper.

Adelia had been missing for the majority of the day. Once she finally made her way out onto the deck, she had been less than helpful. It normally took her only a few minutes to jump up to the sails and work the rigging, but it took her nearly thirty minutes just to climb up the mast. She had a look as if she was floating on air. Her mind obviously somewhere else.

Even now, as Abigail and Adelia walked into the mess hall, Abigail could tell that her friend was not paying attention. She repeated her question, which was ignored again as Adelia’s eyes lit up at the sight of Officer Alvarez sitting alone at one of the tables. Without a word, Adelia made a beeline to the Navy man, leaving Abigail standing by herself in the center of the mess hall.

“Good chat,” Abigail mused to herself.

She rolled her eyes then made her way to the galley to grab her dinner rations for the evening. “Hello, Henry,” Abigail greeted the old pirate as she took a plate of salted meat from him. They had run out of hardtack biscuits and leavened bread that morning. Thankfully they should be docking in  _ Port Monarque  _ the following morning to resupply and hopefully end this with the Admiral.

“Evenin’, lass,” Henry grunted, barely taking his eyes away from the smooth stone he was using to sharpen his hook.

She gave him a small smile then turned away with her food. She looked around the hall, looking for the one person she really wanted to sit with. It felt like being in the high school cafeteria all over again, trying to find a familiar face to sit with. She shuddered at the thought alone. She wasn’t ready to relive any of those memories.

Abigail frowned once she realized that he wasn’t there with them. Instead, she saw an open spot with Jonas, Ginny and Axton, and decided to join them.

“‘Ello, Abigail!” Ginny greeted her with a big grin.

The rest of the table welcomed her as she sat down. As she ate her food, they each started to talk about their day which eventually evolved into their plans for tomorrow once they finally reached land.

“As soon as we reach the port, I’m headin’ to the closest tavern to get me a real meal,” Axton said while pushing his untouched plate of meat away from himself. 

“You should be grateful ye even have somethin’ to fill yer stomach, lad,” Jonas argued, “When I was yer age I’d go weeks without food.”

As the two men started to bicker, Ginny rolled her eyes and turned to face Abigail. “Men,” the little pirate said with disdain. Abigail nodded her head and together they both laughed, breaking the men out of their argument.

“What?” Axton questioned, confusion written over his face. Abigail and Ginny only laughed more.

Ignoring his question, Abigail reached out and grabbed Axton’s plate. “Are you done?” she asked, motioning to the still full plate. Axton nodded his head and Abigail stood up from the table. She said her goodbyes and made her way out of the mess hall and up to the quarterdeck, plate in hand.

“Well isn’t this a lovely surprise,” Oliver said as he caught sight of her walking up the steps. He stood tall and proud against the helm. He looked so perfect - so  _ right  _ \- holding onto the wheel. It made the butterflies in her stomach flutter impossibly hard.

“Evening, Lieutenant,” Abigail greeted as she made her way over to the helm. “I thought I’d find you here. I brought supper.” She thrusted the plate of rations his way.

He looked away from the sea in front of him to look down at the plate. Slowly his eyes wandered up to her face. “Thank you, Abigail. But I can’t exactly take my hands off the wheel.”

Abigail gave him a demure smile. “I could feed you?” She offered and she relished in the laugh that escaped his lips at that.

“That’s not necessary,” he countered, though she didn’t miss how his face flushed at her comment.

“Fine,” she relented, “then let me take over the wheel.”

He looked like he was about to argue again but she silenced him but ducking down under his arm and squeezing into the space between his body and the wheel. She stood firmly between his arms, facing him with her back to the helm. She watched him swallow, his throat bobbing ever so slowly.

“I insist,” she said, pushing the plate his way again. Finally, he let go of the wheel, his fingertips brushing against her sides, as he moved to grab the plate from her hands. She smiled triumphantly as she turned to take the helm for him. “That wasn’t so hard?” she chided.

“No,” he began as he stepped away to lean against the rail next to the helm, “I suppose it wasn’t.”

As he ate, the two filled each other in on what they had done that day after they had parted ways. Oliver asked how she was feeling and Abigail was happy to say she felt much better. She wouldn’t admit it, but being out in the sun and working hard might have just been the best hangover cure she had ever heard of.

“I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better,” he said as he finished the last bite of his meal.

“And how are you?” she asked, glancing over to his ribs. The familiar feeling of dread crept into her mind but she quickly pushed it out when he smiled at her.

“Fantastic,” he said without contempt, “I had an excellent doctor.”

She rolled her eyes but her heart hammered in her chest at the look he gave her. It was full of care and affection and maybe even…

No, she wasn’t ready for that yet. They weren’t ready for that yet.

The sound of him clearing his throat knocked her from those thoughts. She welcomed the reprieve and focused her attention on him. She watched as he set the now empty plate down on a nearby barrel and turned back to her.

“Would you join me? Tonight after Alvarez relieves me?” Oliver asked. She was surprised that he actually seemed nervous.

Abigail gave him a warm smile. “Of course. Our usual spot?”

“Actually,” Oliver began. She could see the twinkle in his eyes which only made her heart pound rapidly in her chest. “I was hoping you would meet me in my cabin. I would like to show you something.”

She was intrigued, wondering what he could possibly want to show her. “I would love to.”

He beamed at her then walked around so he now stood behind her. “Wonderful.”

His hands made their way to her hips and her skin burned with his touch. It sent a thrill down her spine and she leaned back into his chest. “Is this fine?” he asked and Abigail could only nod in response.

They stayed that way for a while as a comfortable silence fell between them. His fingers drummed across her skin as if he was playing along to some old sea shanty that was stuck in his head. She wondered, if she tried hard enough, listened long enough, if she could understand the melody he was playing against her skin.

All worries about the Admiral and Robert seemed to dissipate. With the ship’s wheel in her hands and her body nestled in Oliver’s arms, everything else felt like a distant memory. One that she hoped she would never remember. But then...

“Miss Bellamy!”

That was until she heard the unmistakable voice of the  _ Poseidon’s Revenge’s  _ captain belt out her name from below the quarterdeck. She felt the warmth of Oliver’s hands and chest disappear from her body and she silently cursed herself for missing it so much already.

She turned her head slightly to face Oliver who was now coming beside her to grip the wheel. “Go, I’ve got it,” he said.

“Fine,” she replied, reluctantly letting go of the wheel to let Oliver stand in her place.

As she started to walk away she heard him call out to her, “I’ll see you in an hour’s time?” Though he tried to look stoic and professional, she heard the underlying excitement in his voice.

She smiled and gave him a curt nod before making her way down the steps to the top deck. She walked over to Edward who was standing near the mast. He seemed distant, not all there, which concerned her. “Yes, Captain?”

“Walk with me,” was his only response.

Edward didn’t say another word before he turned and made his way down the steps towards the gundeck. Abigail looked back up to Oliver at the helm. He smiled at her, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. She gave him a brief wave and then made her way below deck.

“So, what are we doing down here?” she finally asked once she had caught up to the captain.

Edward was standing near one of the many cannons that faced out to sea. His fingers slowly grazed over the brass material. He was quiet, which wasn’t unusual. But for some reason, Abigail couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever purpose he had called her down here, it would not be good.

He continued to run his hand upon the giant weapon as he spoke, not bothering to even face her. “Do you remember what I said to you? Back on the island?”

Abigail knitted her brows and she thought back to their harrowing time on the wretched island before they were rescued by Oliver. “You said many things, Edward. You’ll have to be more specific.”

She tried to play off how nervous she was actually feeling. She knew the man could be gruff and hard, but she had never really been afraid of him. Save for maybe the first time she saw him fighting on the Admiral’s ship.

Finally, Edward turned to face her. His face was cold, unreadable. “I had asked if you were letting your heart influence your head,” he reminded her.

The crease in her brow only furrowed further. “What are you going on about?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Miss Bellamy,” he retorted, his expression turning more irate by the second. “Need I remind you that we are on a mission?”

She could feel the blood in her veins start to boil. She knew what he was accusing her of. And it was bullshit. “You do not need to remind me of anything. I am well aware of this mission and what’s at stake here.”

“Could have fooled me,” he mumbled under her breath. But she heard it. And she was furious.

“This is about Oliver, isn’t it?” she asked. By his silence, she knew she was right. “I don’t see you berating Adelia!” She felt awful for throwing her friend under the bus like that, but she wasn’t going to put up with Edward’s double standard.

Edward wiped his hand over his face. He let out an exasperated sigh before pacing up and down the wooden deck. “That’s different.”

“How?” she exclaimed, raising her hands up in question.

“It… It just is!” he countered, his voice rising several octaves. “Adelia isn’t the reason we’re chasing after the damn Admiral. I can’t have you losing focus now that we’re so close!”

Abigail inhaled sharply and narrowed her eyes. She dug her fingernail into the palms of her hands, taking several steps forward until she was right in Edward’s face. She was angry - livid - and about to combust.

“Don’t even  _ think  _ you can pin this all on me,” she punctuated her sentence with a jab to his chest. “Whatever you’re feeling, or not feeling, you just need to get over it.” Another jab. “Just because I care for Oliver, does not mean I will let anything interfere with our mission.” This time she used her whole hand to push him back. He staggered, the back of his legs hitting a cannon but he stayed upright.

“Abigail...”

“No! You don’t get to say my name,” she protested. “I’m going to go back out there and we’re going to pretend that this little spat never happened. You’re going to get over whatever issue you thought you had between Oliver and me.”

She turned on her heels and made her way over to the step. Just before she ascended the staircase, she turned back around to face her captain. He was still back against the cannon. His expression was grave but also surprised - defeated. She frowned before adding, “Don’t let  _ your _ heart influence  _ you _ , Edward.”

And with that she went back upstairs, leaving Edward alone.

~~~~~ 

When Abigail made it to her cabin, she finally broke down. The tears flowed freely as she buried her face into her pillow. She wasn’t just feeling hurt or sad. She was furious. So angry that all her emotions came rushing to the forefront so she let herself sob openly.

After a while, her sobs slowly changed to sniffles until her tears seemed to stop entirely. All that remained was her damp pillow and the feel of salt on her cheeks. She hated that Edward’s words had gotten to her. She hated how he made her feel weak. She hated the fact that maybe he was right.

Abigail quickly shook that thought from her mind.

_ No. She would not give in that easily. _

She stood from the bed and made her way to the metal mirror that hung from the wall. She wiped away any remaining tears, determined to not show any sign of her weakness. Then she unworked the braid from her long hair, letting the waves and curls cascade down her back and shoulders. She grabbed her brown belt from the floor and wrapped it around her waist.

With one final nod to herself in the mirror, Abigail turned around and made her way out of the cabin and towards Oliver’s quarters. As she sauntered across the deck, she waved at the remaining crew that was milling about. She stopped and talked to Maggie and Kendrick who were going on and on about rope tying techniques. After a few minutes, Abigail broke away from them and continued on. She glanced up at the helm where Officer Alvarez was trying to focus while Adelia hung all over him.

“Hey! Make sure we don’t crash, please!” Abigail yelled at the two though she was smiling the whole time. Alvarez waved sheepishly and Adelia gave a mock salute before wrapping her arms around the officer again. Abigail rolled her eyes and continued walking.

She knocked three times on Oliver’s door and waited with her hands behind her back. A moment later the door swung open and Oliver stood in the doorway. His eyes lit up the moment they landed on hers and Abigail instantly forgot all about her worries and her argument with Edward.

“Good evenin’, Miss Bellamy,” he greeted with a bow.

Abigail couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her lips. “Evening, Lieutenant.” She jokingly held out her hand to him which he deftly took, brushed his lips along her knuckles, and gave her a warm smile.

“Please, come in,” he said, stepping back from the door to allow her to walk inside.

“So, what is it that you wanted to show me?” Abigail asked once the door was closed.

Oliver smiled and walked over to the other door in the room that was set between the two windows. He opened it and gestured for her to follow him. Soon, she was stepping onto a small balcony that jutted out from the back of the ship. It was as long as the stern but only wide enough for two people to stand side-by-side. From the railing, there was an unobstructed view of the ocean and the sky stretched out over the horizon.

The sun was dipping low before the ocean. The sky was painted a multitude of colors. Rich purples and pinks dotted with white specs as stars started to twinkle high above them. Warm golds and oranges radiated on top of the water. It was stunning, breathtaking.

Abigail’s lips parted in amazement. “Wow.”

“Do you like it?” he asked, his voice a mere murmur against the loud crashing of waves below them.

Abigail broke her gaze from the view to look up at Oliver who was already staring at her. His eyes held an almost boyish gleam and his smile - that damn smile - made her stomach do somersaults. The gentle breeze wafting from the water’s surface tousled his hair  _ just so  _ making her breath catch in her throat. Just the sight of him left her reeling.

And when the words escaped her, all she was able to do was nod her head to his question. All she could think about was how she absolutely liked it. How she adored it. How she simply loved it. Though she wasn’t sure if she was thinking of the view anymore.

After a few minutes of staring out behind the ship in comfortable silence, Oliver finally spoke up again. “I suppose this is technically the last leg of our tour.”

Abigail chuckled. “I knew you were holding out on me.” Oliver returned the laugh and Abigail relished in the warmth she felt when he moved his body closer to hers.

“To be fair,” he began, his fingers drumming against the wooden rail, “I’ve never actually brought anyone out here. Even my own men have never set foot on it.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

He was silent. For a moment, Abigail worried that maybe she had asked too much. Maybe she had misread all the signs of the past few days. Maybe he was just being nice. That he didn’t actually care. She was making herself dizzy with all the speculation and doubt that she almost missed when he cleared his throat and spoke again.

“This place is special to me,” he spoke with conviction. “It’s where I do my best strategizing. Where I come to calm down after an especially harrowing day. It’s where I come to think.” Another beat of silence and through the corner of her eye, Abigail could see that he was staring at her, though she didn’t dare to look at him right now. He continued, “It’s… it’s the first place I came after I met you.”

His voice was so soft - so sincere. Her chest felt so tight as she listened to his words. She finally tore her eyes away from the sea, just to get lost in his.

She wanted him to continue. Wanted to ask him question after question but her tongue, lips and mouth stopped working. Thankfully he must have known - the mind reader that he apparently was - and spoke up again. She silently sighed in relief.

“I was torn, that day. After I met you in that tiny port town. After I learned who you were. I had never been so confused and angry.” He paused and closed his eyes. Still, she didn’t speak, and silently waited until he continued. He exhaled slowly then opened his eyes and spoke again. “I was angry at myself. Angry at the situation. Angry that I had to follow my orders and chase down the pirate ship that held the woman who had so clearly stolen my heart.”

She finally found her voice, only able to croak out a near-silent  _ ‘Oliver’  _ at his admission. 

He wasn’t done yet, though. “Abigail, I need you to know, before whatever happens tomorrow - before we reach port and we find my father - that I care a great deal for you.” She felt his hand rest against her cheek and he slowly turned her head to face him head on. 

“I… I’ve always been the man that got everything he wanted,” he said. There was so much tenderness in his voice that Abigail had to steady herself against the rail for fear of falling over. “It comes with the status and all. But... if you tell me right now that you don’t want this - want me - then I will honor your wish.” His thumb swiped along her skin. “I’m just happy to have met you, Abigail Bellamy.”

Abigail’s heart strained heavily against her ribcage and it took every ounce of strength to not let her legs buckled beneath her. She wasn’t sure what tomorrow held. She wasn’t sure what the days that followed would bestow upon them, either. And she certainly didn’t know what the future would look like for her now. But none of that mattered right now. At that moment, she only knew one thing for certain.

“I want you,” she admitted without hesitation. “Oliver, it’s always been you. Before I even knew you, truly knew you, I wanted - needed - you.”

And when he smiled again, she knew that every single barrier and wall she built inside her were gone and destroyed. Hopefully never to be risen again.

“Abigail…” The hand he held to her cheek slowly snaked around, finding its way to the nape of her neck. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled her towards him until their foreheads rested against each other. “Tell me again.”

“I want you,” she repeated more confidently than before.

His breath tickled her nose as he spoke again. “Tell me.”

“I need you, Oliver.”

The hand at the back of her neck tightened slightly, as his head pressed harder against her. His eyes were closed, but hers were trained to his lashes, his nose, his lips.

The words out of his mouth were so low - so quiet - she almost missed them. “May I kiss you?”

Instead of answering with words, Abigail leaned in slowly - tentatively. Only when her lips finally brushed against his did she close her eyes. She heard a soft, strangled sigh come from the back of his throat as their lips met. This kiss was sickening sweet, a stark contrast from the first one that they shared in  _ Tiburon _ . His lips were soft against hers, only growing harder and more needy as time moved around them.

His free hand found purchase on her waist, fingers pressing into the fabric. She traced her hands up his chest where they rested against his thundering heartbeat. Her exposed skin was cool from the ocean spray below, but she was  _ warm _ all over from his touch and his lips and just  _ him _ .

Abigail needed to breathe. She tried to inhale through her nose but her senses were filled with leather and salt and skin. It was intoxicating and all too much. Her head spun and she reluctantly pulled her lips away from his. They both gasped for air as she opened her eyes to see he was already staring at her with eyes half-lidded. They untangled their hands from each other though stood only inches apart.

As Abigail’s chest heaved with heavy breaths, she racked her brain to find something - anything - to say to him. She wanted to convey the exact words and feelings she really held for the man in front of her. The noble Lieutenant that somehow stole her heart, as well. So she said the only thing that came to mind. The only thing she could say to prove how much she cared for him.

“Oliver... Kiss me again.”

And in seconds his hands captured her face and his lips crashed - like the unrelenting waves below them - to hers. Her body went where he guided her until her back pressed against the door that led back into the cabin. His lips grew hungry, greedy, but she willingly gave what he took. Abigail grabbed the front of his jacket, fingers bunching into the fabric, to pull him closer to her.

Ever so gently, Oliver’s hands traveled down from her face, making their way over her shoulders then down the grooves of her spine. One hand landed on the small of her back and pulled her flush against his body as the other hand opened the door behind her. Then in one fell swoop his hands rested against the back of her thighs, lifting her from the floor. Abigail wrapped her legs around his hips as the two made their way back into his cabin. Without breaking the kiss, Oliver pushed the door closed behind them with his boot then made his way over to the bed. Only when he sat her down on the edge did they break apart. Her legs fell from his waist but he stood his ground between them.

Oliver moved his hands to her upper arms, his thumbs gently rubbing against the white fabric. His gaze on her was intense, unwavering, and it made her skin tingle and the heat inside flare. Without breaking eye contact, Abigail brought her hands up to the belt around her waist. She watched his throat bob as she started to unclasp the buckle, throwing it to the ground once it was undone.

His hands roamed down her arms then made their way to the newly exposed fabric of her blouse. His fingers dimpled against her skin as he leaned in again, kissing her once, twice, then speaking against her ear.

“I need you to tell me, Abigail.” He kissed her cheek, making her shiver. “I am yours. Your eternal servant.”

Abigail’s heart was about to burst into a million pieces. They would be scattered across the entire Caribbean and not even the best pirate crew would be able to find all the buried pieces. And Abigail thought that maybe, she would be okay with that.

She grabbed Oliver’s face and pulled his mouth back to hers, leaving a searing kiss to his lips. “I already told you,” she began when they pulled apart. Her hands went down to the hem of her shirt, batting his hands away. “I want you.” She deftly pulled the blouse up and over her head, tossing it somewhere behind him. “I  _ need  _ you.”

She watched as his brown eyes grew almost entirely black with desire. He reached his hands up but paused just before touching her skin. “May I?” he asked.

Abigail nodded. “ _ Please _ .”

His hands were warm as they caressed the skin along her waist. His calloused fingers traced the grooves of her ribs as they moved up her body. When they reached the fabric of her lace bra, his expression morphed to one of wonder.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like this,” he claimed. His fingers continued to graze along the lace material until his thumbs ghosted over the front, causing her to let out a breathy moan.

Abigail’s mind was clouded with lust as she tried to think of an answer that would satisfy his curiosity enough. His hands glided up the straps and he slowly slid them down her shoulders. His lips followed the trail, leaving her completely speechless. She needed a distraction. Her hands went around to unclasp her bra where she tugged it off, letting it fall to the floor to join the rest of her discarded clothes.

It worked.

Soon his lips were latched to her skin where he left tender kisses along the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His fingers grazed over her the newly exposed skin of her chest, cupping and squeezing just so that made needy whimpers escape her throat. She could tell with each new sound she made, it only made his touches and kisses grow more heated.

As Oliver laved over her chest and neck, she wound her hands around his waist - minding his wound - to bunch the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. “Oliver…” she started to plead until his teeth grazed the column of her neck, causing her to yelp. “Oliver, please. I need to touch you.”

He pulled away from her skin and nodded wordlessly. Abigail smiled and leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers. Her fingers found the buttons of his jacket where she deftly undid them. Soon he was shrugging out of the uniform, letting it hit the floor. 

Abigail’s hands travelled greedily over his body. She reveled in the feel of his muscles moving and contracting under her touch. Her fingers traced down his chest, slowly gliding over his stomach until they reached the hem of his trousers. Before her fingertips could delve past his waistline, his hands gently wrapped around her wrists, pulling them away and pinning them back to her sides.

“Not yet,” he stated when she gave him a questioning look. “I told you, I get what I want,” he said as if that was answer enough. “And what I want, more than anything,” he released her hands then moved them so they rested on her waist, his thumbs dipping under the waistband of her pants. “Is to watch as I make you come undone.” He kissed her softly before murmuring against her lips. “Do you want that, too?”

Abigail would have given him the entire world if he had asked her in that same way. Would have wrangled all the stars in the sky to please him.

“ _ Yes _ ,” she replied, leaning into another kiss.

She could feel him smile against her lips. When he dug his fingers further into her waistband, she lifted her hips, allowing him to pull her black pants down her legs. Left in only her underwear, Abigail continued to brush her lips to his. His hands landed on her knees, using them to push her legs further apart. Then his hands ran over the expanse of her thighs, slowly caressing her skin, until his fingers played with the band of her underwear.

Oliver broke away from her lips and stared into her eyes reverently. She could tell he was searching, silently asking, so she showed no hesitation. Then, his fingers trailed down, and slowly - painstakingly slow - he made contact with sensitive skin.

The next thing she knew, she was on fire.

The pads of Oliver’s fingers stroked slowly along her slick folds, rubbing tantalizing circles that made her entire body shudder in response. Abigail bit her lip as she choked back a groan, knowing full well that there would be people just outside the door.

“Don’t,” he admonished, though his words were soft and without chasten. “I want to hear all the lovely sounds you can make.” As if to prove his point, Oliver’s fingers slipped inside, making Abigail gently cry out at the sensation. “That’s it,” he said as his hand moved slowly in and out. “That’s its, darling. Let me hear you.”

Abigail needed something, anything to grab to steady herself. She quickly found his shoulders, placing her hands onto the muscled flesh and dug her blunt nails into his skin. Now that she had found leverage, she started to rock her hips, meeting the thrust of his hand. Soon they found a steady rhythm and Abigail gave up on holding in her moans, allowing them to escape her lips freely.

With every thrust and stroke her movements only grew more erratic. Oliver’s free hand snaked into her hair, fingers wrapping around the strands to pull. She keened as his tongue traced up her neck, moving to the spot just under her ear. Her body shuddered at the sensation, only making his pace quicken.

She was teetering on the edge, her body dangerously close to spilling over. She pulled him close, capturing his lips into a blazing kiss. She trailed her lips down his jaw and chin, making her way down his throat, leaving a fiery trail in her wake. He redoubled his efforts, using his thumb to gently stroke against her sensitive skin.

It was too much but also not enough. She wanted more but her aching body couldn’t take it. She tried to hold on but he felt so  _ good  _ and everything else felt so  _ right _ . Soon she was gone, coming undone just like he wanted. Her teeth dug into his bare shoulder as she cried out in pleasure.

Oliver continued to coax out more wanton moans and whimpers from her lips and he helped ease her from her high. Soon his hand stilled before removing it to place it on her trembling thigh.

“Brilliant,” he exhaled slowly before pulling her face to his so he could press a kiss to the corner of her parted mouth. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

Abigail agreed wholeheartedly, considering every ounce of air seem to have dispelled from her lungs. As she worked on catching her breath, her hands roamed down from his shoulders, leading a path down his abdomen and stilling on his waistline again. This time, he didn’t object when she started to tug his trousers down. He let them pool at his feet before kicking out of them. Soon he was completely bare before her and she couldn’t help but stare.

“Breathtaking,” she parroted back to him. The indulgent smirk that crossed his lips made her body shiver and she decided that she couldn’t hold back anymore. “On the bed,” she demanded as she slid forward to stand.

Oliver didn’t argue. He pulled her in for a heated kiss before climbing into the bed, propping his back up against the wooden wall at the head of the bed. He turned to where Abigail still stood next to the bed and reached his hand out. She quickly removed her underwear before grabbing his hand and letting him pull her up onto the bed.

She settled on her knees between his parted legs. When his hands went up to touch her, she swiftly grabbed his hands and pressed them back to his sides. She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Hands to yourself.”

She watched as his fingers dug into the linen at his sides, but he obeyed her command. “Abigail…” The timbre of his voice was low, hoarse.

She rested her hands against his chest then leaned in and captured his lips with hers. She moved down to his throat to suck the supple skin there, leaving treacherous marks that would surely be seen by the rest of the crew. She didn’t care.

Soon, her fingertips grazed down his chest, over the taut muscles of his stomach and the lean cut of his hips. She heard him hiss as her nails raked over the tender flesh of his thighs. She could see the white on his knuckles as he continued to refrain from touching her.

She kept one hand splayed on his thigh as the other made its way to where he needed her most. When her fingers gently wrapped around him, he jerked upwards once before quickly stilling himself.

Abigail unlatched her lips from his throat, marveling at the colorful marks that remained, and stared into his eyes. His lashes fluttered as her hand continued to move tortuously slow, up and down.

He was a vision - cheeks tinged pink, lips parted and pupils blown wide - just for her.

“Can I make you feel good, Oliver?” she purred as her hand continued its deliberate slow pace. He wordlessly nodded his head but Abigail stopped her ministrations, causing him to groan at the loss. “Tell me, Oliver,” she commanded, the hand on his thigh squeezing tight, “I need you to say it.”

She watched him swallow - his Adam’s apple bobbing so deliciously that she debated on if she should actually wait for him to speak.

“ _ Yes _ ,  _ please _ ,” he said softly.

With his answer, Abigail started to work her hand again. She placed featherlight kisses across his chest, tongue slowly gliding down his abdomen. She shifted in the bed, lowering herself until her head lined up where her hand was starting to increase its movements.

She looked up one last time through her lashes, catching his eyes, then lowered her mouth over the head of his length. She heard him mutter a curse and her tongue swirled and swiped over his sensitive skin. Her hand stroked at the base as she bobbed up and down.

Her name fell from his lips over and over as if it was the only word he knew. Her free hand moved from his thigh and found its way to one of his hands at his side. She laced her fingers between his and he squeezed, the moment so surprisingly affectionate that her chest tightened and filled with warmth.

The noise from the world around them was gone. Left with only lewd sounds and heavy panting that only made Abigail move faster against him. She took him further and deeper than she ever thought imaginable. When his hips bucked up to meet her, she moaned around his length, only causing him to buck more. Her eyes watered as she swallowed him whole, his hard length pressing to the back of her throat.

“Abigail...” she could hear the warning in his near quiet voice.

Then she felt his fingers running through the loose strands of her hair. He pulled her head up and away from him until she released him from her mouth. She was about to protest when he eagerly pulled her lips to his. His other hand broke away from hers to wrap around her waist. Soon, they were flipped and Oliver was draped over her body as her back hit the mattress.

“Wha-” she couldn’t finish as his lips met hers again. His kiss was demanding, all tongue and teeth, as he nipped and pulled at her lower lip. Each whimper and moan he coaxed from her throat was captured by his lips and Abigail could do nothing but give in.

His hands traveled the length of her body, running along her arms, ribs, waist and finally her hips where they stayed. His fingers gripped her flesh so insistently that they were sure to leave bruises. Again, Abigail didn’t care.

Abigail mewled as she felt his hardened length press against her waiting sex, still hot and wet. “Are you ready, love?” he whispered against her ear before sucking the skin just below it. 

Humming a yes against his skin, Abigail threaded her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his hips. He teased her entrance, causing a strangled groan to rise from her throat. She could feel his smirk against her neck and she tugged at his hair in retaliation. His usual bun became loose and tendrils of pale, blonde locks framed his face.

Finally -  _ finally  _ \- he relented, pushing forward until he was enveloped entirely in her warmth. They both inhaled sharply at the sudden peak of pleasure. Oliver sucked the skin of her neck, moving to her shoulder then down her collarbone, leaving a trail of glistening red marks that matched his own that dotted his skin.

Soon he was moving, bodies dancing between the sheets like they were made perfectly for each other.

“Extraordinary. Beautiful. Perfect.”

He articulated each word against her skin between punctuated thrusts. Her toes curled, legs pulling him closer and deeper. His hands ran down her thighs, gripping almost painfully, digging blunt nails into her flesh that were sure to leave crescent moon marks. The thought alone made a broken moan pass her lips.

She wanted more. Need to feel the full extent of what he could do. But her brain refused to cooperate and she was unable to use her words to tell him exactly how desperate she was for him. Instead she raked her nails over the planes of his shoulder, down the sinew of his back, urging him closer.

He continued his hedonistic pace, languid thrusts hitting all the right spots but not nearly enough. Soon, she found her words. Just enough to get her point across.

“Oliver… I need…”

And thank the lucky stars he could read her mind so well. He leaned up, placing one hand next to her head to steady himself, and kissed her deeply. His other hand reached down and connected where their bodies met and Abigail cried out in sheer, unadulterated bliss. His hips canted forward, his thrusts growing rapid against the rocking of her own hips.

“Yes, just like that,” she encouraged through strained breath. “I’m so close.”

Oliver’s thumb and hips only moved more frantic, hitting every spot that made her keen. She was burning up, their bodies slick with the humid, Caribbean air. She wasn’t going to last much longer and by the movement of his thrusts, neither was he.

She locked eyes with him, his eyes so dark with lust that the warm brown color was almost completely gone. She reached her palm up to his cheek where her thumb stroked soft circles against his chiseled skin. She pulled his face down to hers, pressing their foreheads together. She kept her eyes trained on his, not daring to move away even when the pressure became too much and she came, his name falling from her lips in an endless prayer. She felt his body shudder. A few more hard strokes and he was spent, stilling his movements before slowly rolling off to lay in the bed beside her.

They laid there together in silence, the only sound beside creaking wood was the hoarse breaths and pants coming from their lips. They both stared up at the ceiling, Abigail’s mind fuzzy and reeling as she tried to catch her breath. Until finally...

“Bloody hell,” Oliver exhaled.

A small smile played across Abigail's lips as she turned her head. She could see his eyebrows raising ever so slightly and his lips curling into an almost goofy smile. “Everything alright, Lieutenant?”

Without a word, Oliver reached his arm out, wrapping it around her shoulder to pull her close. Abigail went willingly, fitting perfectly against the crook of his arm and the curve of his side. She rested her head against his chest, leaving tender kisses on his skin. She felt her hair ruffle as he sighed, then kissed the top of her head.

Abigail’s hand traced patterns across his skin. Running along the invisible lines between each freckle and scar that graced his body. Connecting the dots to form a picture that only she could see. Imagining all the constellations in the sky that they would stare at each night along their journey.

Soon, she felt Oliver’s hand gently run under her chin, tilting it up so they were now face to face. “You are amazing,” he admitted as he pulled her lips to his in a gentle kiss. Slow, steady and unbelievably delicate. When he eventually pulled away he sighed against her lips and closed his eyes. “I want to thank you, Abigail.”

Abigail knitted her brows, her fingers coming up to brush back several strands of hair from his face. “What for?”

He grabbed the hand that played with his hair and brought it to his lips. He left a quick kiss on the palm of her hand before intertwining their fingers together and resting them on his chest, just above his steady, pounding heart.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he began, as he kissed her temple. “Thank you for allowing me to prove my worth to you. And thank you for being with me tonight.”

She wanted to huff a laugh at that last statement, but then he kissed her again, just as soft as before. Any witty remark she might have had quickly died on her lips.

“You don’t have to thank me, Oliver,” she said. “I should be the one thanking you. For rescuing and aiding us. I owe you so much.”

Oliver stared into her eyes, the hand that laid against her back slowly rubbing circles into her skin. “Don’t,” he whispered against her forehead. “Abigail, I would do it all over again given the chance. I would do anything for another moment just like this with you.” he stated brusquely. “You owe me nothing.” Her chest swelled and she leaned in for another kiss, this time more deep and passionate than the others.

They continued their conversation, conveying all their thoughts and emotions through kisses and touches rather than words. Each kiss was a promise and each touch was a solution to whatever issue may lie ahead. Soon, when they were both truly tired and spent, they fell asleep, blissfully in each other's embrace.

Tomorrow would come, that was the only guarantee they knew. But for tonight, they had each other. They would worry about the distant shores in the morning.

~~~~~

**E P L I L O G U E**

_ Darkness. _

_ Cold, eerily cold darkness surrounds Abigail as she trugs through long corridors of brick and stone. The smell is old, musty, as if no one else had stepped foot here in centuries. _

_ There’s a glow from up ahead. Blue and shiny at the end of the tunnel. _

_ Abigail walks towards the light, unsure of what lies in front of her. Then she feels it, a warm pressure against her lower back. Her breath catches as she turns around. Only to be greeted with warm eyes and a brilliant smile. _

_ “Darling?” Oliver says, taking in her haunted expression. _

_ Abigail breathes a sigh of relief at the sight in front of her. “Oliver!” she exclaims, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for a tight embrace. _

_ “Are you alright?” he asks once she finally releases him. She nods her head then turns back around to face the glow at the end of the hall. _

_ “Come on,” she demands as she laces her fingers with his. “We must go this way.” _

_ She goes to step forward but is pulled back, weighed down by the man behind her. She turns her head to see a grim expression on his face. “Oliver? What’s wrong?” she asks, the worry evident on her face. _

_ She reaches out for him, but he falls, collapsing to the floor, hand clutching his side. _

_ “Oliver!” _

_ The dim corridor and glowing light disappear, fading back to the strange darkness, leaving Abigail cold and alone. _

~~~~~

Abigail was jarred awake from her sleep, panting heavily as her eyes adjusted to the early morning sun that barely peaked in through the windows.

_ Windows. Plural. _

She was still groggy, but soon remembered she wasn’t in her own sleeping quarters with the tiny porthole window. She was still in Oliver’s room - Oliver’s bed. She moved her hands, soon realizing she was alone as her fingers splayed over the cold space next to her.

Then she remembered her dream. Abigail’s eyes grew wide and panic filled her body. She tossed the covers off her bare body and shifted to the edge of the bed. She stood up but still held onto the mattress, her legs still weak from her night’s activities.

It was still relatively dark in the room and she grabbed the first bit of cloth she could find - her underwear. Next she spotted his Navy jacket which was now hung on the back of his desk chair where it was most certainly not left last night. She sighed in relief, hoping that he must have laid it there not too long ago. She grabbed the jacket and threw it over her shoulders as she walked around the room looking for the rest of her clothes.

She didn’t make it far before the sound of the balcony door opening caught her attention. When Oliver walked inside, stopping just short of the doorway when he saw her standing there, all worry was erased from her mind. In an instant she ran towards him, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist. Thankfully he was quick, grabbing onto her thighs to hold her up.

“What’s this, darling?” he asked as Abigail buried her face into his neck. She tried to control the few tears that threatened to spill, but unfortunately a few escaped her eyes and landed on his bare chest.

“I’m just so happy to see you,” she answered, not prepared to go into detail about her dream. Vision? Premonition? She hoped not.

Oliver walked them to the bed, perching her on the edge just like the night before. He pulled her face between his hands, his eyes searching hers. She could see the evident worry in his knitted brows and the slight frown on his lips. “What’s wrong, Abigail?”

She surged forward, capturing his lips into a searing kiss. An attempt to make sure this was real - he was real. She was thankful he didn’t pull away. Thankful that her tears stopped as his lips continued to devour hers.

When they finally broke apart, she smiled slightly, the nauseating worry that was there earlier finally disappearing. “I just had a bad dream,” she finally admitted and almost laughed at the exasperated frown that greeted her.

“But you’re alright?” he asked, and the sincerity in his voice just made her kiss him again and again, hoping that this action alone would convey how ‘alright’ she was. When she pulled away again, she nodded her head and was relieved to see him smile, a genuine, pure smile.

“You know,” Oliver began, his fingers running across the lapel of her jacket -  _ his  _ jacket. “It would cause a great scandal if someone were to see you wearing this.”

Abigail’s lips quirked in delight. “Even more of a scandal than a Navy Lieutenant consorting with a pirate?” she mused.

Oliver chuckled lightly and leaned in to nip along her jaw to her ear. His lips brushed against her lobe and just before he could open his mouth to speak, a loud knock rang through the cabin.

“Sir, it’s Doyle. We’ll be reaching  _ Port Monarque  _ within an hour’s time.”

Oliver sighed, the grip he had on her bare thighs tightening just slightly before he let go and stepped back. “Thank you, Doyle,” he barked out towards the door. “Please leave me, I will be out shortly.”

“Yes, sir,” Officer Doyle replied before footsteps leading away from the door could be heard.

Abigail hopped off the edge of the bed and shrugged out of the jacket and handed it out for Oliver to take. “Duty calls,” she said in an amused, mocking tone and she moved around the cabin to grab the rest of her clothes.

The pair dressed in silence, exchanging flirty glances and an occasional touch or kiss. It took longer to get dressed than normal, but neither of them cared. Once they were completely dressed, Oliver held his arm out to her. Abigail smiled, looping her elbow with his as they stood in front of his cabin door.

“Well, Miss Bellamy, ready to see what the future holds for us?”

Abigail forced a smile, swallowing the pain and fear that came with that sentence. She would tell him the truth, soon. She only hoped that it wasn’t too late for him to forgive her. 

“Ready, Lieutenant,” she replied.

Oliver beamed at her then placed a chaste kiss to her cheek and together they walked out of the door and towards their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for everyone who took the time to read this story. If you enjoyed it, please feel free to leave a comment or kudos.  
> Also, A huge shout out to Alia for beta reading and giving amazing advice <3


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